Me, Myself, and the Horde
by PalladiumPoison
Summary: It's strange to be alone but surrounded by people...but when the people are flesh eating monsters, you kind of wish you were alone. T-M
1. Chapter 1

It's rare that I could pull myself away and stare at the stars. It was gorgeous and it remained the one thing in my life that never changed. My eyes traced lines between the dots, creating the little dipper…the big dipper…honestly, that's all I was ever able to find. I never was much of an astronomer, but looking at the unchanging skies was a seldom comfort to me. A loud screech tore me from my reverie and I clamped my eyes shut.

_Thump, thump, groan, screech, thump…_

I gritted my teeth. They've found me again. It's a shame really, this place was so nice. It had a nice view, some food, some water…but they'd come, like I knew they would. But I refused to acknowledge them for a few moments. I wanted to believe that those thumps and groans were coming from some scientists rummaging around the lab beneath me instead of bloodthirsty Fleshwalkers. I hummed, trying to drown out the banging and crashing that the thumping had turned into.

"_Well, here we are again_," I sang to myself as the crashing got louder, "_It's always such a pleasure._" I was singing so loud now that it almost sounded like screaming and they took notice as they tried to figure out a way onto the observatories roof. Too bad for them (and lucky as hell for me) that the stairs that led up here had been burnt to a crisp in the Overtaking. The only way I'd managed to get myself up here was with flight.

"_Oh, how we laughed and laughed!" _The screaming/singing was now almost maniacal sounding, and it disturbed me to listen to my own voice sound so alien, "_Except I wasn't laughing," _My voice suddenly died and went solemn as one Scavenger screeched particularly loud, "_Under the circumstances, I've been shockingly nice._" I was now singing so quietly that I couldn't even hear myself over the banging and crashing beneath me.

_**What clumsy scientists they are. Just like Dad.**_ I immediately regretted my thoughts as a painful pang rang through me and I flinched. His poor aim had always been a running joke in the family, but no one had expected it to cost him his life. He hadn't deserved to die like that. Sure, he'd been a bit of an oaf, but he was—had been, that thing he turned into wasn't Dad—my Dad, and I'd loved him all the same. He hadn't deserved to die so painfully.

And I _definitely _hadn't deserved to be the one to kill him. My eyes shot open as I shook my head. _**No, I didn't kill **__**him**__**, I killed **__**it**__**. **_Those eyes that he'd stared at me with, they weren't his friendly blue orbs that I had seen since I could remember. His face…God, half of it was just _gone_. Like…it no longer existed. It was quite honestly one of the most terrifying things I'd ever seen, and I would give nearly anything to un-see it. But that's not how the mind works, unfortunately.

At least Mom hadn't seen it. I'd been walking home from school, back at the very beginning of the Overtaking. The Fleshwalkers were only a myth then, nobody was really taking it seriously, and most were treating it as a bad horror movie gone wrong. But we, Sam, Tucker (May he rest in peace) and I, were cautious about it, always looking over our shoulders to make sure that nothing of the undead variety was following us. (The impossible had become somewhat normal in our lives, so we were the last to doubt the existence of Fleshwalkers.)

This happened to be what saved me (at the moment.) I remember seeing Dad's silhouette and finding it odd that he wasn't moving. "Dad?" I'd asked, Sam and Tucker staring in confusion at my Dad's unmoving form. And then he'd moved. But this definitely wasn't his odd, half waddle that was custom for him. It was as if his joints had molded together, and a solid metal rod had been placed in his spine. Then he moved into the sunlight. And I screamed. I screamed so loudly my voice was hoarse for two (three?) days at least.

It hurt to look at him. He had just enough left of his face and jumpsuit to recognize him but was so mutilated that it made me wish I couldn't. "Dad, stop!" God, I was such a moron. He was shuffling towards us, his impaired joints causing him to move even slower than his average speed but it didn't matter. We were terrified, all of us (Yes, even Sam, the Goth who read nearly every manner of horror books), so terrified, in fact, that we couldn't move.

But Tucker had been closest. Oh, poor Tucker, he hadn't deserved it either. The sound of Dad's teeth sinking into Tuck's arm and clamping so hard it snapped the bone was one thing I would love to un-hear (there seemed to be _a lot _of things I wish to forget.) I thought I could save him. I thought I could find a cure and he would just have a nasty scar. But it had ended with me having to blow his head off his shoulders as he tried to eat Jazz.

I'm not sure when I had shifted from lying on my back to being curled into the fetal position. I was disgusted by my own weakness and stretched back out before standing. I hovered above the surface of the roof before phasing halfway through it to see what I'm up against. _**Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck.**_ I don't normally like to leave them alive (if I'm going down, then I'm taking as many as I can with me), but there are an insane number of Scavenger's here. At least twenty, which is the most I've seen at once.

Here and there I see a few Phantom's (ha!) that are staggering around blindly (not much of a threat considering they can't see because their eyes are either gouged or rotted out) and all of this equals one big problem. You know why? Because there are about ten Scavenger's gathered around my bag (my life support) and they're squabbling over it like children, screeching in their weird zombie language. They must smell me on it because they're grabbing at it like a starving man after a cheeseburger.

Another thing about the Fleshwalkers, they have a _really _good sense of smell. So no matter what I do (invisibility, intangibility, they don't care, they'll just charge right at me, even if they can't physically see or touch me. They're not the brightest birds in the flock) they can locate me. So as I float further into the room, every dead head turned up to look straight through me. The surrounding zombies screech, swatting upwards in my direction but miss my invisible ankle by a mile.

The Scavenger's fighting over my bag immediately drop it in favor of the more sumptuous, delicious option (me!). They pounced with loud screeches, barely giving me enough time to go intangible and have them sail right through me. It was strange feeling to have living people pass through me (kind of like drinking scalding hot chocolate and then pouring it over your entire body) but having the undead pass through me…it was like having ice water not on your body, but in your core.

And they smelled. Oh, the stench. They reeked of death and decay and anything else they touched smelled the same (which was EVERYTHING.) So I pulled my tattered bandana up over my nose in a vain attempt to mask their, and my own, odor (showers weren't exactly abundant in the wasteland now known as the U. S. of A.) The Scavenger's abruptly spun around, one spinning it's head so fast that its neck popped and its head rolled off its shoulders onto the floor, its body crumbling into a lifeless heap. It would have been hilarious if it wasn't so disgusting; what with the maggots squirming from its open neck hole and the fact that other Fleshwalkers gathered around and started eating it.

I gagged, feeling stomach bile rise in my throat and clasping one callused hand over my bandana clad mouth. I couldn't afford to lose an ounce of food (food was about as abundant as showers.) So I braved through the gagging fit and turned tangible for a few dangerous seconds to grab my bag.

Seconds to long. A Scavenger clasped onto my shoulder, its razor teeth scraping the fabric of my jacket before I slammed an ecto-charged fist into its deformed head, nearly disintegrating it. It fell limply to the floor as I phased through the wall and shot from the observatory as fast I could. I heard a loud sizzling and looked down to see that the putrid, acidic Scavenger's blood had splattered on my coat, huge holes burning into the thick fabric. I shrugged it off hesitantly, warmth was life in these cold months; shedding a jacket was like signing your death certificate.

I would need to find a new one, and a map for that matter. I had no idea what city I was in—scratch that, I didn't know what _state _I was in. I flew over a field, seeing a herd of _zombie _cows. Not even the cows were safe. It was a depressing thought to say the least. And then I spotted a glow in the distance. I reached my top speed as I approached it, and realized that the glow was from roaring flames. It wasn't an uncommon sight in the Wasteland, but I hoped that if there were survivors (wishful thinking much?) they would know what state this was and have a jacket for me.

As I hovered far enough off the ground to be unreachable by the regular Horde zombie I couldn't help but call out, "Hello?" It rebounded off the empty buildings eerily, the only thing responding were a few Phantoms charging at me, their skeletal bodies clicking and clanking loudly as they shuffled. I blasted them almost uncaringly (Phantoms were more bone than flesh, so they really weren't much of a threat since they fell apart if you pushed them even slightly) before tugging my bandana from my mouth.

"Anyone here? Anyone that doesn't want to eat me?" I looked around once more and once I decided it was (semi)safe, I landed on the cracked pavement, "I'll take that as a no." I walked forward, my eyes scanning the stores for anything that could be of use (nada, everything had either been looted or destroyed) but there was a shocking lack of the undead. Freezing wind billowed through the street, and I thanked myself for the fact that I rarely changed from my Phantom form to my Fenton one (In my Phantom form it was nearly impossible to make me cold, but when I slept I ran the risk of hyperthermia.)

"_When it's cold outside," _I laughed at my own stupidity, "_I got the month of May._" It seemed absurd to be singing such an upbeat tune while walking over the carcasses of half eaten humans and Fleshwalkers alike, but hell, if it kept him sane, it was worth a try, wasn't it?

"Maybe," I answered myself, "but what'll the Fleshwalkers think of you?" Something about this statement wasn't just funny, it was gut-bustingly hilarious. I laughed—cackled—at the top of my lungs and had to stop and sit on a chunk of charred car to catch my breath. I was laughing so hard I started crying, but the crying soon turned to sobbing and the laughter turned into moans of agony. In these moments of isolated insanity, I realized how utterly and totally alone I was.

My parents? _Dead._ Tucker? _**Dead.**_ Sam? I had no idea. But I hoped and prayed that she had made it. _**She made it, she had to. She's too strong have become a Fleshwalker.**_ So this left me with…one possible ally, who I wasn't even sure would be of sane mind or body if I found her. And then something moved. I jerked upwards, the tears still silently streaming down my cheeks as I aimed one glowing fist around wildly, unsure where the movement had come from.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are freak-a-zoid." Glass shattered in the store front next to me and I quickly adjusted my aim as I stalked towards it, ready for a fight. This building wasn't particularly charred, it actually seemed to be in strangely good condition, minus a blood splatter here and there.

A whimper. Almost like the small cry of a puppy and my ectoblast faded slightly, Fleshwalkers didn't whimper (I doubted they had the ability.) My boot kicked aside a dismembered limb and there was another whimper from inside the store, but more muffled this time. I stood outside the door, holding my wrist as if it were a shotgun and took a deep breath, ready to face whatever hell spawned monstrosity awaited me.

I kicked open the door, holding my hand out to blast away anything that could pose a threat. Nothing. I stalked forward, to the nearby checkout counter of what used to be a small bookstore. I jumped over the counter and popped open the register. I grinned in delight, a Swiss army knife was stowed in the back of the register drawer. I picked it up hesitantly as if it was going to bite me (woof!) but quickly placed it in my bag. I searched under the counter, hoping for another weapon but only finding a few dead rats and even a dead cat (meow!)

And then the whimper came again and I straightened. It was coming from…the floor? I looked behind me to the direction I'd heard it from and saw a conspicuous rug looking oddly out of place. I knelt by the rug and peeled it from the floor, finding a small hidden door in the floor. I placed my ear to the floor but couldn't quite make out anything. So I knocked. A small yelp sounded underneath the door and now I was _sure _that something living was in there.

"Hello? Anyone here? Are you ok? Are you infected?" I pressed my ear back to the door and heard slight heavy breathing.

"_D-D-don't…don't come any closer!" _My brow crinkled with pity. The voice sounded so young, it almost reminded me of Danni.

"I'm not here to hurt you," I responded as I searched the cubby in the floor for any possible knobs, handles or keyholes to open it with, "Just open the door."

"_…are you a Baddie?_"

"A what?" (Baddie?)

"_Are you a Baddie?" _

"Um, I'm guessing no?" Silence for a few moments and then the door popped open ever so slightly, one brown eye staring up at me, "It's alright, come out." The door then opened completely and she cowered in a dark corner, keeping me from seeing her fully. I leaned down and stuck my head in, my ectoplasm green eyes dully illuminating the small space.

"Don't be scared." I held my hands out in a show of piece but forgot that I'd already charged them with ectoblasts. She squealed and hugged a nearby crate, hugging it as if it was some all-powerful guardian (BEWARE!)

"You lied!"

"What?"

"You lied! You said you weren't a Baddie!"

"I don't think I'm a—"

"Baddie!"

"Yeah, that, I don't think I'm one, but I don't know exactly what that is." She stared a few moments before dropping into the small den. She squealed and hugged the crate tighter as if I was about to lunge forward and eat her. (Boo!)

"It's a…a you!" I nearly laughed at her expression, slightly confused, and greatly annoyed; it was quite comical on her small face.

"You mean a ghost?" In hindsight, I probably should've approached her in my Fenton form, which stood as a much less frightening figure. She suddenly lost interest in her box/guardian and studied me. I'm not sure what she saw that amazed her so much. My hair was an off-white mess that now fell to my shoulders (haircuts fell in the same category as showers and jackets) my old Danny Phantom costume was barely recognizable since I'd demolished the sleeves and torn the collar (two years of growth and the thing didn't fit quite as well as it once did) but the emblem was still in the center of my chest, only slightly faded.

I'd had to scavenge the ripped jeans I wore (and all I can tell you is that these jeans weren't ripped for fashion) from a carcass and even they were becoming ill fitting. My boots were stolen (it's not like the storemanager cared, but then again, it's hard to argue when you're being attacked by the Horde) but fit well enough. But whatever she saw seemed to set her in a state of awe.

"You're a _ghost_?" She then stood and hesitantly made her way over to me and I stood perfectly still (don't want to frightener and all considering I'm a _Baddie_.) She then poked at my leg once, then twice, then over and over again. I frowned moving my leg back a step but she just moved forward and continued poking until I grabbed her arm, earning a squeak of fear from her.

"Yeah, I am, but that still hurts."

"If you're a ghost, how come I can touch you?" She sat on her guardian crate and I knelt onto the ground to be more at her eye level.

"Because I'm not intangible right now." I answered as I drew absently on the warped wooden floor with one finger.

"Inta…intam…imtamigable?" I chuckled and ran a hand through my hair. She may not have the most vocabulary skills in the world but she was another human being and I was desperate for company (your own singing voice can get on your nerves after a while.)

"Yeah, imtamigable. It means I can pass through stuff." I replied with a grin and she seemed to relax a bit, "It's pretty much the only reason I'm not one of Them."

"So…are you a friendly ghost? Like Casper?" I laughed again (laughing so much in such a short amount of time was a nice change from the constant seriousness I'd been having to deal with) and it felt really nice.

"Sure, like Casper." She seemed to be thinking for a moment as she stared at a knot in the floor.

"Momma says that ghosts are Baddies. Well, she says 'Baddins' but still…" An awkward silence fell as she picked at a dying bug on the floor and I looked over at her through my silver bangs.

"Where is your mother?" I didn't know if this was a safe question, and judging by the tear filled gaze she gave me, I was guessing her mom wasn't out picking flowers. (Probably pushing up daises.)

"Momma said she heard a noise, that she thought someone alive was out there. So she went to go look for them."

"How long ago?" There was a crunch as she destroyed the bug.

"Three days ago." (I hope her Mom likes daises.) "She told me to stay in here and wait for her. She's coming back right?"

(No.) "Yeah."

"Oh, ok, but I don't know if I should trust you, Baddie."

(You should, or you would if you were smart.) "You wouldn't be the first not to. Most people don't like ghosts, they think we're going to like…suck your blood or something." Her small hands clasped over her neck with a squeak (She squeaks so much I think she's part squeaky toy) "But we don't."

"Well, Momma says," (Your 'Momma' is dead or undead kid, frankly, I don't care what she says) "that Baddies don't like humans. That they hurt people for fun."

"Yeah, well, your Mom would've gotten along real well with my parents." Something about this statement baffled her and she looked up from the tormented bug in shock.

"Baddies have parents?"

"Do you think I spawned from thin air?" I mentally slapped myself for how harsh that sounded, she was just a naïve little kid, it wasn't her fault she didn't know. She didn't exactly react to my rudeness like I'd expected.

"No need to be so rude, Baddie!" She then punched my shoulder a lot harder than I would expect for a little girl.

"Sorry, but my name's not Baddie though, it's Danny."

"Danny what?" I frowned, tapping my fingers on my knee. I really had no idea anymore. Danny Fenton didn't really exist anymore, considering I was only him when I slept but I'd humanized Phantom so much that I wasn't even sure he (I?) was the same person anymore.

"Good question…"

-x-

I can't guarantee that every chapter will be this long, but there was a lot of info to get across in this chapter (and I still didn't get it all across) so in case your confused, here's a little synapses:

Danny Phantom/Fenton: 16 year old kickass half ghost zombie hunter.

Sam: Whereabouts unknown

Tucker: Dead.

Madeline Fenton: Dead.

Jack Fenton: Dead.

Mystery little girl: See Chapter 2

_**Other characters (from the show) will be introduced throughout the story! A chapter dedication if anyone can guess what state Danny has landed in… **_

Zombie Synapses:

Scavengers: Extremely skinny, agile, and fast. They're one of the more deadly breeds of zombie, usually the reanimated corpses of athletes or runners.

Phantoms: These are the most decayed breed of zombie. They're almost completely bone and their joints are so rotted away, they usually fall apart on their own.

The Horde (Left 4 Dead anyone?): The average zombie, usually found in large groups. Adequate speed and okay agility.

And those are the only zombies mentioned in this chapter.

Terminology:

The Wasteland: This is what Danny calls the USA.

Fleshwalkers: another term for zombies.

The Overtaking: the period of time when the zombies first started taking over.

_**I repeat: **_ _**A chapter dedication if anyone can guess what state Danny has landed in… **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter dedication (and fudge!) goes to…AnneriaWings!**_ Who was the first to guess the correct state that Danny is in…*coughWisconsincough* what? Who said that? Anyway, Danny has landed in Wisconsin, but won't be there long.

-x-

In hindsight, maybe it wasn't such a fantastic idea to take directions from a six year old (No shit, Sherlock.) But then again, if I was full of good ideas, I wouldn't of given in and let her ride on my shoulders instead of walk. Sometimes, I really hated being as nice as I was (had been? Am?)

"Which. Way. Do. We. Go." I formed each word into an individual sentence as I spoke, gritting my teeth in absolute frustration. She "hmmed" and "hrrrmmmed" as she sat on my shoulders, leaning forward and propping her elbows on my mop of hair as she continued her thinking.

"I…dunno." I literally facepalmed, slamming the palm of my fist into my forehead instead of knocking my brains out against the wall of dirt in front of me. This place was like a literal labyrinth. After the room I'd discovered her in, the wood flooring changed to hard packed dirt tunnels leading to…well that's what I want to know.

"Where does this place lead?"

"I don't know."

"How long is this tunnel?"

"I—"

"Let me guess, you _don't know_?" Then she got quiet. Really quiet. Way to go, Fentino. (When did Dash start voicing my inner thoughts?)

"Momma never let me go this far, she was afraid there were Baddies." And then she started crying—no, crying was too nice. Sobbing was more the word, and she was using my hair as a tissue. (A horrible choice since I probably smelled like a pungent bouquet of sweat, zombie goo, dirt, and ash.) And she noticed.

"You smell awful." She sobbed into my hair but didn't remove her nose from my mane. She was right of course, actually, I didn't smell. I reeked…_bad_.

"Well, I haven't had a shower in…what's today?"

"Eww! Gross!" She removed her head now and frantically looked at both forks of the tunnel, "Let's go that way so I don't have to smell you as much." I ignored her comment (unwillingly) and trotted down the tunnel, illuminating it with one glowing hand. I have to admit the lighting is unfortunate, casting ominous shadows on the walls and floor, but anything more than five feet away was shrouded in darkness.

It was like a set for a bad zombie movie (It's the night…of the living dead! Blegh!) Then came a shadow. It was tall, and blocky, not humanlike in shape but who knows, maybe there's a new breed of zombie I have yet to stumble upon? She whimpered, curling her arms tightly around my head and covering one of my eyes, making me feel like I was wearing a human eye patch.

"Is it a Baddie?" I changed my gate, walking now only on the tips of my toes to remain silent, quietly silencing her. But it wasn't a zombie; actually, it was quite the opposite. Guns, guns, guns, and guns, and MORE FREAKING GUNS. (_DID I MENTION GUNS?_) I could've fainted in joy, but instead I let out a yelp of pure bliss and darted forward so fast that she nearly toppled from my shoulders. Shotguns of nearly every variety, rifles, pistols and enough ammo to take down a small country was spread before me in three different boxes. Oh, this was nice. This was _very _nice.

"What is all this?" She asked, leaning over my shoulder to examine the mint condition (if somewhat dusty) artillery splayed before me.

"This…this is fantastic. Ectoblasts are nice but this is just _great_." I strapped not one, but two of the holsters around my back, sliding a shotgun in one and a rifle in the other. I pulled on a third holster, sliding in two pistols and finally fastened three bandoleers around my waist and chest (I was taking no chances.)

She grew bored with my fascination with the weapons and jumped from my shoulders, going to examine anything else that might interest her seven year old mind.

"Oh, I _love _whoever built this place." I cried out in joy as I found a crate full of bottled water. Gallons and smaller bottles of all varieties littered this box of happiness. I pulled out a gallon and popped open the lid, realizing just how undeniably thirsty I was. I drank at least a quarter of it in one gulp, bathing my mangy hair in the rest of it. I never thought I could fall in love with water, but god, I think I just did.

I began stuffing bottles of water into my bag, shoving aside the beef jerky (I hated the stuff by now, considering it was all I've been eating for _way _too long) and canned foods to make room for more water. And then I noticed how quiet it was (minus my deliriously happy laughter.) Something was definitely wrong.

"Er, Girl?" I had to remember to get her name, "Girl, where are you?" _**Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit on a pancake. **_I raked my fingers through my wet mop of hair, as I called out for her. No, this couldn't happen again. The flashback came so suddenly that I nearly crumpled.

_A flash of fire and the roar of an ambulances siren._

"_Sam!"It seems ridiculously dark, crazy dark considering all the fire. But I know why I think it's so dark. Because I can't find her and I can't stand the thought of losing her. I'd already lost Tucker, and Dad, and Mom, and everyone else I ever cared about, if I lost her…I don't think I could make it._

"_God, Sam, please!" I can't fly because the smoke is so thick that I can't penetrate the omniscient cloud that hovers above the city, "Don't be dead! Don't be one of Them!" And the mental image of Sam's pretty faced ripped in half, the flesh hanging from the bone and her gloriously violet eyes glassy and dulled over was enough to make me double over and lose my lunch on the sidewalk. _

_It's been ten minutes and I'm sure she's dead. Nobody disappears for ten minutes and comes back. Not in the Wasteland they don't. _

The memory is so painful that I've curled in on myself, the tears flowing freely. Then I feel a small hand on my shoulder and there she is. Her face looking curious and confused.

"Momma never said Baddies could cry." And I'm just so happy that I haven't lost her that I laugh. I laugh, replacing her dark eyes with the violet ones I yearned to see so badly. I laughed, replacing her curly brown locks with the straight, midnight black hair that I longed to touch. I laughed, replacing her short frame with the lithe runner's body that Sam had possessed the last time I'd seen her. But then she spoke, shattering my illusion and bringing me back to depressing reality. Back to the Wasteland.

"What's wrong?" And I did the only thing that kept me from breaking down into a whole new wound of sobs.

"_You want your freedom? Take it…_" I paused in my singing, wiping a few tears away as she sat beside me and stared in awe, "_That's what I'm counting on. I used to want you dead, but now I only want you gone._" I feel entirely defeated as I hang my head and I wonder, what's the point? Why am I even surviving if I don't have anyone to come home to? This wasn't the first time the thought had crossed my mind but I was Danny Phantom (Fenton? Who the hell was I?) and I (whoever I am) do not give up.

So I stood wordlessly, picking her up and placing her back on my shoulders as I stalked down the tunnel. I would live, if only to help this little girl survive. She still had a chance. A glimmer of hope, and it terrified me that I couldn't come up with any other reason to live.

-x-

It's too quiet, and I can't just hear it, I can feel it. It's that eerie calm before the storm silence, not the "thank God it's dead…" silence. She's tugging at my leg now, she can feel it too.

"Don't go," She murmurs into the leg of my jeans, gripping the fabric for survival, "don't go down this street. There's Baddies." I didn't need her to tell me that, but it's nice to have a second opinion that isn't my own dueling conscience.

"I can handle it." My hands light up and aim forward as I stalk down the street, using that same catlike prowl that I'd used in the tunnel and she tries to do the same but settles for hanging on my leg like a monkey. A form emerges from the smog and smoke, and it's decidedly feminine. My finger twitches, and I almost reach for my newly acquired weapons. (Great, now I have a trigger itch too.) But the forms not moving and I decide that this is either a terrified person or a Floater.

I continue forward until it's within almost an arm's reach and my ectoblast illuminated her demonic features (Yep, Floater it is.) The skin is hanging in serrated strips, the gleaming bone underneath showing like newly polished pearls. Her eyes must've been a pretty brown before she was infected, but they're just a milky white now, emotionless. Dead.(A fitting description.) But then it happened and everything just went to shit from this point on.

Girl darted from my leg with a cry of "Momma!" as she clasped onto the undead women's leg. I shot forward at the exact same moment, tearing her away from the _thing _so fast that I ripped its leg out from underneath it along with Girl.

"No! That's Momma! She wouldn't hurt me! She loves me!" I'd thrown her opposite of it, and she was screaming at me, tears starting to brim her eyes. And I understand. I know how badly she wants to believe that this thing loves her. That it's still her Mother, but it's not. Just like my Dad wasn't my Dad once he'd gotten infected. She needs to learn. Girl shoots forward again, and I keep her at bay with one foot to her chest while I keep her "_Mother_" (or what used to be) away with one glowing hand.

"Girl, stop! She's not your Mom anymore!" I cried as she darted around my leg and made a b-line for the Floater. It was clear she wasn't going to listen, but I wasn't going to let it cost her her life. But it might be too late. The floater lurched forward with a groan as Girl got within arm's reach of the thing. And I saw right where it was going for. The top of the head. I wouldn't be able to blast it in time to keep it from biting, so there was only one solution.

I jumped in between her and it, shielding Girl from the Floater's oncoming bite. I never imagined it would hurt as bad as it did. Its rotted teeth sunk into my left wrist, and I yanked my arm from its grasp before it could snap the bone. But the damage was done. I blasted its head from its shoulders weakly, as I favored my wrist. Unwilling to look at it.

That was it. I was infected.

-x-

It was like being lit on fire and freezing at the same time. I wondered if this was what being ripped apart molecule by molecule felt like, and if it wasn't, it couldn't be far off. I raised my wrist that the bite had been inflected on and nearly vomited. Because I'd jerked my wrist out of its mouth after it had bitten into the skin, it had just ripped the skin off like when you eat the skin off of a chicken (Well, never going to eat KFC again…)

It truly was a disgusting sight. The veins were throbbing visibly beneath the skin, a dark green color replacing the healthy blue and red veins. The bone was just visible beneath the muscles and veins, and blood was pouring from the open gash onto the ground in a massive red puddle, while bright green goo sizzled at the edges of the wound. I'm gripping it with my other hand now, feeling the infected blood sizzle against the skin of my other hand and the tears of agony falling from my eyes steadily drip into the wound, making slight sizzling noises.

I could feel my skin melting away with almost a numb tingling sensation and sloughing to the ground like dead, wrinkled leaves. And I turned my hand over shakily, seeing the infected veins crawling up my hand, branching into each finger and turning the skin a sickly blue/gray color. I can see and feel the nails shape and change, the fingernails each sharpening into deadly points. I would've screamed if my throat didn't feel like jello (rotten, revolting, zombie jello.)

"Baddie!" Her voice was distant and far away, and only then did I remember that she was still here. I shook my head frantically. I wanted her to run, run as far away from me as humanly possible. Within two hours, I wouldn't be me anymore. The flesh on my left hand (all the way up to my goddamn ELBOW) was nearly gone, and now it was tearing away at the blood veins.

I curled in on myself, shaking and quivering like a beaten dog. I could feel my own heartbeat behind my clamped eyelids; it's panicked pace beating without rhyme or reason. My uninfected skin was clammy and pale, and I felt the bile rise onto my tongue as I tried my best to fight the transformation. But it hurt. It hurt so badly. Like every single muscle was shriveling and dying. Like every single bone was crackling and snapping like a tree in a wood chipper.

I just wanted the pain to stop.

"Baddie! Get _up!_ Get up!" Now the pain was tripled and I felt sobs of agony rip through my throat, and I dug my fingers into the pavement beneath me as if to get a grip on my shriveling humanity. The burn was under my skin now, invisible but hurting just the same. I could feel it in my brain, warping my perception and doing its damn well best to erase my personality. But I wasn't going down without a fight.

I'd rather die than become one of them. So I reached for the pistol at my waist with my right hand, the cold metal causing my panicked breathing to hitch. This was it. I'd never, _ever _thought I would go through a bullet in my head. I heard the gun click loudly as I cocked it, shakily raising it. But before I could place the barrel to my temple, my nervous system was overwhelmed by the infection. My arm (and the gun) dropped to the ground limply, the barrel staring me straight in the face. I was unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to stay conscious.

-x-

"_Mom!" Why is it so freaking quiet? I stumbled over a mass of charred bricks and steel. What used to be Fenton Works was now a pile of debris, the Fenton Portal having exploded after neglect of changing the filter. The heat and smell was unbearable. The explosion had wiped out at least forty, if not more, undead. But no, it had not only wiped them out, it had __**obliterated **__them. Leaving huge, black, splatters across the pavement and giving the entire blast zone the pungent smell of death, rotting sewage and ash._

_And Mom and Jazz had been right in the center of it, blasted away in the middle of defending our base against the Horde. Nobody had even thought to check the portal. We barely even noted its existence once the onslaught began. We'd heard it was just as bad, if not worse, than the human realm. So we'd blocked it off. And by "we" I mean Mom, Jazz, Sam and me._

_I didn't want to break. Not with Sam standing right behind me, both of us staring at the puddle of bones, blood and tissue that Mom and Jazz had been reduced to. But I couldn't help it. They had been the only family I'd had left and now they were puddles on the annihilated pavement. As I fell to my knees and stared blankly in front of me I felt Sam kneel beside me, wrapping one arm around my slumped shoulders._

"_Danny?" I open my mouth but can't form words because I know if I do, I'll break down into a useless, sobbing mess, "Danny, please talk to me." But I can't, so I just hold her to me, trying to memorize every feature. Every curve, because I know (but bitterly deny) that she won't be with me forever. And I miss her old smell. I know how weird that sounds but it's true. She always smelled like lilac and some other berry I can't remember the name of. But that smell is gone, replaced by the ever-present stench of sweat and decay. _

_I miss those careless afternoons at the Nasty Burger. I miss those walks through the park that Sam and I would occasionally catch. Hell, I even miss getting beaten by Dash, at least he didn't try to eat me (or hadn't, he turned out to be one ugly zombie!) I rested my chin on her head, her unbrushed hair scratching uncomfortably._

"_Danny, __**talk.**__" I refused, pressing my lips together tightly as tears brimmed in my eyes, dangerously close to spilling over. "Please. For me?" She pulled away and I whimpered in the back of my throat. I didn't want her warmth to leave me. Not now, not ever. She stared at me, and I wondered when she'd gotten that bruise on her chin, and when she had gotten those scratches under her left eye. I wondered when her amethyst eyes had turned to stone; I wondered when she'd stopped smiling. _

"_What's the point?" My words were strangled and almost unintelligible as I placed my forehead against hers. I realized how dependent I'd become, I couldn't __**not **__touch her, I couldn't let her go, and to do so was like receiving a physical hit._

"_It'll keep you sane." She replied, and I frowned as the tears finally boiled over and fell onto our interlocked hands. I felt ashamed for crying so I clamped my eyes shut, praying for rain to camouflage my weakness._

"_Sanity's dead, Sam. You know that." I wince when my voice hitches from me trying to desperately hold back my tears. _

"_Talk anyway." She doesn't deny my statement._

"_It's not fair," I feel like a child saying those words, "why did all this happen? Why are we the only ones left? Why __**us**__?" Her hand is on my cheek and my tears get on her hand. She doesn't mind. _

"_Because you have a purpose, you always have. I'm just sort of riding your coattails." _

"_What purpose?" My voice is angry now, enraged, it doesn't fit how hopeless I'm feeling, "Everyone we know is dead or undead. What could I possibly do? What could you?" _

"_Listen to me." She takes my forehead from hers, forcing me look her in those amethyst stones, "I can't do anything. But you __**can**__. So if you ever give up or give in, I'll be right behind you, ready to give you a good kick in the ass."_

_**Where is she now?**_

-x-

Wow! Chapter 2 and I'm throwing the plot twists at you like BAM! Does this mean the story's over? NAY! Tis only the beginning! Now, the flashbacks (italics) are a bit confusing. The first flashback takes place after the second one, if that makes any sense. It sort of hints at what happened to Sam, and throughout the story you'll get little bits and pieces of what's happened between him and Sam to cause them to have lost touch.

Floater: Extremely quiet zombie. Usually very agile and well fed, so they don't groan and announce their presence. (Name taken directly from: Allison Hewitt is Trapped by Madeline Roux)

Girl: I…sorry. I just didn't want to think up a name ^/^ this is all she will be addressed as in this story, because she never actually tells Danny her name, and she only addresses him as "Baddie" so…

Anyway, thanks to **Rogue Alice,** **AnneriaWings,** **Doomandgloomp, **and **Satrinity **for their wonderful reviews.

_**IMPORTANT: This story updates every FRIDAY. Next installment (chapter 3) updates on August 26th. **_

_**CAUTION: Tis SamxDanny ahead! **_I am a RABID SamxDanny fanatic, so this will have a GREAT dose of good old DS.

_**Chapter Dedication Question: Is Danny left or right handed?**_

Fyi, that song he's been singing "_Well, here we are again. It's always such a pleasure."_

"_Oh how we laughed and laughed, except I wasn't laughing. Under the circumstances, I've been shockingly nice." _And then, "_You want your freedom? Take it… that's what I'm counting on. I used to want you dead, but now I only want you gone…" _Is the closing song for the game Portal 2 called "Want you Gone" I'm such a nerd…


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: _**Gets very SamxDanny…**_

-x-

"You know, Sam," I murmured as I wrapped my arms around her, "I've missed you. A lot." She smiles and wraps her arms around my neck, giving me a coy grin.

"I've missed you too. It's been too long." We start swaying now, unconsciously starting to slow dance. This isn't the Sam I'd last seen. This is a Sam before that. Her chin is unbruised, and her cheeks are unscathed. Her eyes are shining and full of cheerful life, and her hair is clean and well managed. I'm not quite myself either. My hands are free of the calluses I'd earned, and don't bare the scrapes and cuts I'd acquired. I can see my own reflection dimly in her eyes and see that my hair is freshly groomed, the front jutting out in jagged spikes. My face is clean, my stomach is full, and all is right with the world.

Then the background changes from a plain white backdrop to a familiar place. The high school dance. It seems like it was more than two years ago that I was last here; it feels like it's been a lifetime. And her outfit changes to the exact same dress she'd worn to the dance all that time ago, the purple chiffon feeling like heaven against my skin. And as we dance I can't help but feel like everything is just perfect. Absolutely and totally _perfect_.

Too perfect. My arms fall from her waist and I turn away with a scowl. _**Fuck my life.**_

"Danny?" She's stunned and hurt as she places a hand on my shoulder. I turn and look at her face. It looks, like everything else, perfect. But I know she only looks so wonderful and irresistible because I want her to. I take her hands, staring her down and she knows. She knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"This is a dream isn't it?"

"Hallucination." I feel like crying. I want her so bad and my own deluded brain has the nerve to torture me with an _almost _Sam? I repeat: _FUCK. MY. LIFE. _I suddenly grasp her to me, surprising Sam, but she doesn't reject me. I know she won't. Because she's only in my head and I control what she will and won't do.

"Am I dying?" She leans into my arms and snuggles her head into the crook of my neck.

"Hmmm…no, no I don't think so. You shouldn't die yet, you haven't found me." I want to believe that as the whole truth but I know it's only my own mind trying to soothe me.

"So are you still alive out there?"

"I'm you; I only know what you know. So I can't answer that." I grimaced; I knew how she was going to answer that, but I still felt I needed to ask.

"So, if you're me…"

"Yes?"

"Does that make this gay, or narcissistic?" She laughs, and it sounds just like I remember. God, it's fantastic and I could revel in this fantasy forever. But something's wrong. I don't get to see Sam this vividly unless something's really wrong with my head.

"Neither, I'm still a girl, but you created me subconsciously." Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's still weird.

"What's happening to me…in reality?"

"You were infected." I grasp her tighter; I don't want to be one of Them. I want to stay here, with her, where everything is right with the world.

"Am I going to be a Fleshwalker?"

"That'd put quite a damper on our relationship, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, probably." I sigh, knowing that this much evasion means I'm leaving soon, and I wonder what it'll be like to be brainless. What it'll be like to want flesh and flesh alone. To thirst after blood and nothing else. To forget Sam, and anyone else who ever mattered so I can stumble along aimlessly until I crumple into nothingness.

"Danny!" I look to my left arm and almost expect it. That doesn't change the horror. The bite is back, and it's worse than ever. It's accelerating faster than I'd ever thought possible and the infection shoots up my arm into my heart and throughout my body, leaving a Fleshwalker there. I'm a monster now, and she means nothing.

"Danny, wake up!" She can't escape my grasp, and my scraggily nails puncture her shoulders.

"Danny, please, don't do this." But I can't stop, no matter how much I want to. Because I want her (In a different way than I normally did) and I wanted to devour her (again, not in the regular way…)

"I love you." And I take her. My teeth sink into her neck, the crimson blood flowing past my lips and down my chin. I growl in frustration. I don't want to miss a drop, not a molecule. Not anything. She's staring at me in abject horror, and my returning grin is distorted in the reflection in her eyes. My lips are gone, leaving a long, ghastly, skeletal grin.

"Love you too." And then I tore that pretty grimace from her face. Literally.

-x-

I screamed awake, shooting upward and the blanket that had been resting over me fell to my waist. I was panting heavily; sweat rolling down from my head in sheets. I clutched my left wrist, letting out a hiss of pain. It was heavily bandaged, but there was a noticeable divot where the bite had been inflicted. I stretched each finger, testing the movement of the stiff, unwilling joints. My eyes then traced up the bandaging to a needle inserted in the crook of my arm, duct tape crudely placed over it. A tube was connected to it, and it led up to a medical bag halfway full of glowing blue goo.

I stared at it, reaching out with my right arm to touch the medical supplies, stunned to see them. Hospitals had been the first to become infected because of how close people were to each other, and during the Overtaking hospitals were the first to be looted, and then burned. The gleaming metal of the stand that the bag was held on seemed to call for me as I wrapped a hand around it.

It was still there. And then I heard a collective gasp, and that's when I realized I was being watched. That's also when I realized I was naked. Now, I think you understand that realizing these two things at the same time was quite horrifying, but realizing that I was also trapped in this cave like room and was being watched like a (naked) tiger in a zoo made this marginally worse.

I clutched the blanket it to me, making sure that it covered my waist and pulled it up to my mid-chest. This was so wrong in _waaaayyyy _too many ways. I crawled back on the examination table I'd been lying on and slammed into the solid rock wall behind me. On the other side of my cell, there was an open wall that had bars that looked like an old-timey prison movie prop. And on the other side were at least thirty people staring at me, some in horror, some in curiosity, some in confusion, and some were just flat out laughing.

Wait a second. _People? _Like normal, non-flesh hungry people? Other survivors? And the first time they meet me…I'm freaking naked. (Yeah, I'm Danny. What's that? You know me? Yes, yes, I was that naked guy.)

"Look at him!"

"You think he understands us?"

"Probably not, Vlad says he got infected and he wasn't sure how far the infection spread. But he stopped it with the serum." I lowered the blanket (just a little, I swear!) as I thought. _Vlad_? Oh, please tell me this wasn't the Cheesehead, Fruitloop, hit on Mom at every opportunity Vlad. But that bastard was like a cockroach; he wasn't going down for anything short of a nuclear war. It astounded me that I'd yet to wonder if he'd made it.

"That's too bad, I mean look at those abs…" I jumped, realizing I'd dropped the blanket a little too far, and it was now showing my entire chest and a portion of my abs.

"I know he's like a part zombie or whatever, but he is total hunk-meat!" Ok, this is going a little too far; the girl ogling me looked to be twelve, at most. And I had to say, I was a little flattered. I pulled the blanket back up to my chest and looked to my bandaged hand; the fingers, or what I could see of them past the bandage, were light blue. Part zombie? So I was… half ghost, half human, half zombie? That's….150%?

Damn, I suck at math.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" Oh, god. It was _him_. The crowd parted and there, right beyond the bars, was Vlad Masters standing in his Plasmius form. His cape was long gone, and the sleeves had been torn short, but it had otherwise remained unchanged.

Oh, and did I mention I'm still naked? Cause I am, and isn't that the most awkward thing in the world. (Hey, Vlad, how ya doin? Why am I holding this blanket like I'll disintegrate if I don't? Why, it's because you're an old perv, and frankly, you creep the shit out of me.)

He materializes a ring of keys in his ungloved hand and twists it in the lock, sliding aside a section of bars and stepping in before relocking it. And then he just stands there and stares at me. Wow, I wonder when that ceiling got so interesting? Wow, is this blanket 1200 count, snuggubly soft! Ok, that was dumb.

"Hello, Daniel." Hi! I'm naked! "You seem confused." More like, morbidly humiliated, and pissed, but confused is a close third. I cleared my throat loudly (much more loudly than necessary, might I add) and the crowd held their breath collectively.

"Uh…hi?" I mentally facepalmed. Hi? That was it? Vlad's arched brow told me he wasn't impressed.

"Yes, well, I suppose you're wondering why you're not a shambling zombie right not, aren't you?" Close, but no cigar.

"Actually," the crowd murmured loudly, "I was…I was wondering who undressed me?" Not Vlad. Not Vlad. Not Vlad. If there is a God, _don't let it have been VLAD!_

"Relax, it wasn't me." He waves off my concern but from the resounding giggles I hear somewhere in the crowd, I think I can tell who did. Wonderful. That'll be another awkward introduction, "Now if it were your mother on the other hand…" Ok, now we can add disgusted onto the list of how I'm feeling. Because that's jumped _way _up to number one.

"Thanks, Vlad, a lot. I think I'm going to hurl now." I rub my throat, it feels ridiculously sore and I can't believe how thirsty I am. Like, crazy thirsty. And I wonder why my voice sounds so gruff and low (Almost like Dan…*shudder*)

"Ah, there's that teen wit. How old are you now? Seventeen?" Why do you ask, oh pervy one?

"Sixteen." I grunt out the word, "Where are my clothes? And my guns?"

"We weren't sure you would be of sound mind when you came to, so your guns are in my room."

"And my clothes?"

"They were falling apart at the seams; we're hunting some more down for you. I'll go get your things." He turns and leaves (FINALLY!) and I tag on loudly,

"Clothes first!" And there I was, sitting on an examination table, completely naked, surrounded by people. I'd rather be fully clothed and surrounded by the Horde than be in this situation. But I'm forced to sit there and try to cover as much of my body as possible and wait for my clothes.

For three hours.

-x-

"_Hey, Danny! I found a river!" Sam grins as I run towards her and stop at the bank of the river with her. It really is a pretty sight, and despite the fact that it's right at the edge of Amity Park, it remains pure and untouched. This is great news. A river is a source of hydration, and of course, sanitation. Which we were both desperately in need of. _

_We both knelt by the river's edge, and washed our faces before gulping down as much water as humanly possible. Then came the sanitation part. I'm not sure how to start. I know the world is ending (if not already ended) and modesty __**should **__be dead…but I can't exactly bring myself to strip down in front of my __**female **__best(girl?)friend._

"_So…uh…water?" She shoves me with a roll of her eyes._

"_Come on Danny, when will we get another opportunity for a bath?" And the prospect of __**her **__stripping down as well? Well, I try not to think about, these pants aren't exactly the thickest fabric around, "Last one in is a rotten egg!" And then she pulls off her shirt and shimmies out of her skirt and boots, jumping into the river in a perfect dive. Well, declare me rotten. _

"_Coming in?" Change the 'o' to a 'u' and maybe. _

"_Yeah, sure!" Too much enthusiasm! I tug off my shirt and hesitantly linger on the button of my jeans. Why God? Why must you hate me so much? _

"_You want me to come out and get you?" Do you promise? Bad! Bad, Danny!_

"_Uh, no?" It comes as a squeak and I have to think of anything unattractive to slide off my jeans. I immediately disappear into the water (the more cover, the better) and resurface to quite possibly the most attractive thing I've ever seen or will see. Sam seems to be resurfacing just moments after I do and she puts some supermodels out there to shame. She even does the freaking hair flip. THE HAIR FLIP! You know the one, the one where not only does her hair move, but so does the rest of her, like she has to shake her entire body just to move her hair. _

_And I have never hated/loved that hair flip more. Like, ever. But it's only too late (waaayyyyy too late) that I realize I've been staring…gawking… _

_Shit, this is going to be one long apocalypse. _

-x-

I was fairly sure that Vlad was just being a bitch. Yep, no doubt about it. He was being a B-I-T-C-H. Who takes three hours to return with a pair of pants? (And nothing else!) Vlad does. Who takes three hours to return with none of my weapons? Vlad does. And why? Oh, that is because Vlad is a bitch.

I think I've clearly stated the point that Vlad is a bitch, but I think the term is too nice. Because he also refuses to let me have a room that isn't open to the viewing world. Why, you ask? Because he says I'll eat the other survivors. He said that _to my face_. Ouch.

"Seems we're a bit low on clothing, so this'll have to work." He tosses me a pair of pants. Khakis no less. Motherfucking, _KHAKIS. _I honestly can't think of anyone under forty that owns a pair of these, let alone wears them, "You know, I haven't told you how this works." He flicks the medical bag that now only has only a few ounces of the "serum" left (three hours ago it was halfway full.)

"Fine, enlighten me, Dr. Frankenstein." Vlad tactfully ignores my jab as I stare at the pants, how am I supposed to put these on? The crowd had dispersed (somewhat) but Vlad was still right there.

"I developed it myself. A work of genius really," He pauses to bask in his own fucked up vanity, "it stops the transformation in its tracks, but it doesn't reverse the damage." I'm getting frustrated with these pants now, and I'm grinding the fabric between my fingers. The clean fabric makes me feel extremely dirty, and I shift uncomfortably. It was only then that I registered his words. _Damage? _

"What…what damage?" I'm playing dumb, and I know it, but Vlad doesn't buy it.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to take a look," Vlad responds impassively and I can feel the taunt behind his gaze. He knows something that I don't. I've seen that look before, many times before. I didn't like it then either. I run a hand lightly over the bandaging, the skin beneath feels uneven and bumpy, like a dirt road.

"That's why I didn't bother telling you not to. It's not like you ever listened to me." My teeth grit together in fierce aggravation.

"Because you tried to act like my Dad, when you're _not_."

"The fool's probably dead now isn't he? Was he eaten?"

"Stop it."

"Perhaps he was shot? Maybe somebody thought he was an undead bear!"

"Stop it, Vlad!"

"Oh, or did you do it? Did you finish him off?"

"Enough!" I pounced, my fist slamming into the side of his face with the force of a bulldozer, "Nah! Naked!" I immediately grab the blanket and wrap it around my waist, leaning back against the table. That little attack had a massive effect on my dwindling energy. I watch Vlad push himself up and see that he'd become quite acquainted with the ground. Deep scratches were on his right cheek, and a steady stream of blood is dripping to the floor (why he approached me in his Masters form, I'll never know.)

I know I should be focusing on Vlad's enraged stare. I know I should be aware that I'm nearly completely naked. I should be aware that there are nearly fifteen people still watching me. I should be aware that that little show of aggravation ripped the needle from my arm. But I'm not. I could care less as I shove right past Vlad and stare at that puddle.

Its smell is like a siren song to a sailor. Like a T-bone to a starving mutt. Like a wide open field to a claustrophobe. Like tuna to a cat and sleep to an insomniac. (Holy shit, did that rhyme?) I don't just want it. I need it. I don't register that everyone is watching for what I'll do next, staring at me like I'm a rabid dog about to be sicked on an intruder. I fall to my knees and I don't care that there's dirt mixed in with the blood. I don't care that it's Vlad's blood I'm lapping up from the floor like a cat drinking a saucer of milk. I don't care about anything but the blood at this point.

The blood runs out much too quickly and I wipe at the blood that's left smeared on my face, devouring that next. _Fucking DELICIOUS. _I suddenly stood, having just enough sense left to hold the blanket around my waist as I stare Vlad down. But I'm not looking at his eyes; I'm looking at his neck, open and vulnerable. I can see the veins there, the pale flesh like icing on the most scrumptious cake ever, and my senses are so on edge that I can almost _see _his heartbeat.

"Daniel, think about what you're doing." I'm beyond thought now that there's blood involved. And I show this by only growling in response. And this isn't a human growl; it's too animalistic, too primal. This is the growl of a food deprived Fleshwalker.

It's only too late that I see the tranquilizer gun slide from under his belt.

-x-

_This is dumb. The entire undead world is against us, why are we fighting each other? We only have one tent so we have to stay close to each other, but she's pressed up against the opposite side of the tent, partially curled in on herself. She's cold, and I know it, but she refuses to let me touch her. _

"_Sam, please, you told me, a while ago, that you have to talk. That it'll keep you sane." She doesn't move, but I can hear her crying, "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't do the same for you?" Her frame tenses before she lets out a long aggravated breath and turns so I can now see her tear streaked face. It takes all I have not to wipe away the tears._

"_What kind of __**friend**__? You said it yourself, you don't care about me." Her amethyst stone eyes are hard and seem to be lit on fire internally. The effect leaves me stunned._

"_I meant that I don't care about you…in that way." I feel horrible lying to her, but there's no room for affection in the Wasteland. Love is weakness, and weakness is death. Rule number one, in the Wasteland._

-x-

I can't see. And I can't see because it's blindingly dark. Only one light illuminates this underground cave and it's a lantern on the far side hanging over a large puddle of water. I shudder and my breath comes out in a misty cloud. It's freezing down here and all I'm wearing are these god forsaken khakis. I cough and swallow deeply, my throat feels like sandpaper. I crawl over to the puddle beneath the lantern, cupping my hands in the water and swallowing it.

It's not as satisfying as I want it to be, and it tastes extremely dull compared to the blood. I groan at the memory of it. It was every great flavor that ever existed mixed into one substance. I lick my lips as I follow the map of my veins running up my arm, the blue vein standing subtly beneath the skin pulsing with _blood. _The water becomes uneatable and I flex my wrist, the blood is so close…

And I take it. I bite on my wrist, ignoring the wave of pain that results and take in the blood. It's disgusting, and weird and wrong, but I can't seem to make myself register this. The pull of the blood is too strong, too primal and instinctual for me to ignore. But I know that's not right. I never had this instinct before. I've never lusted after blood and flesh like this, especially not my own. But all of that doesn't matter. I just…want…the blood and the flesh.

I try to catch any blood that falls from my mouth, but a few drops land in the water, cascading out into red rings in the liquid. I look down into it and freeze. The pool offers a perfect reflection and I'm forced to see myself. I remember the skeletal grin from my dream. The bloodlust, the thirst. I lower my bleeding wrist from my mouth, feeling my stomach turn at my reflection.

I look like a Fleshwalker and I don't even recognize myself. My jet-black hair is sticking up in every direction and knots are grouped together in matted masses. My skin is pale (probably from blood loss), contrasting my hair and deep red blood stains my chin and lips. The eyes were what scared me the most. The sapphire blue is polluted with bloodlust and looks generally crazy and unstable. Inhuman. If I saw myself on the street, I'd probably run.

Danny is gone. (Knock, knock. Who's there? Not Danny.)

I can't deny that I still want the blood but I shove my wrist in the water anyway, blood red ribbons unfolding from the bite and diluting into the water. My fist clenches as I try to refuse that watching the blood slip away is almost physically painful. God Damnit, I want it! The bloodlust becomes too much and I dunk my head into the blood tinted water.

Fuck, it's the most delicious thing I've tasted in a long time. (It's magically delicious!)

What the hell is wrong with me?

-x-

Where did THAT come from? I don't even know, I was in a sick mood when I wrote this I guess. Let's see…it has innuendo, nudity, self-mutilation, angst and gore. What is wrong with me? But I have to say, my favorite part of this entire story is the first flashback of this chapter. I cackled reading that over ^_^

Vlad: 40 something leader of a group of survivors.

Girl: Sorry I couldn't fit her in this chapter, too much drama.

Danny:…Oh, Danny…the shit you go through *facepalm* I'm so sorry I stripped you in this chapter, but…hurrrrrr….

And Danny, you suck at math. You fail at it! 150% makes you one and a half people! Idiot! Anyway, thanks to **Samara, Satrinity, AnneriaWings, Rogue Alice, **and** Jakkeirafan223 **for their reviews. And thanks to my new beta _Satrinity_, much love _Saty! _


	4. Chapter 4

I wandered blindly through the darkness, groping at the rough walls for any way out. So far, no luck. I growled in irate frustration. It was dark and cold. I was hungry, thirsty, sore, half drenched, and just overall pissed. Today (tonight?) was _not _a good day. After circling the cave walls for a third time I screamed in frustration before collapsing against the rocky surface. I wrapped my arms around my exposed torso, feeling a bout of claustrophobia suddenly engulf me.

Were they just going to leave me here to die? To starve? My heart beat faster with the force of my anxiety. Why shouldn't they? I was a monster. I'd tried to _eat _Vlad. If that wasn't proof that I was lost then I didn't know what was. I'd survived only to become…this. Three parts that equaled nothing (1/3 = 0? I really _am _bad at math…) and all because Vlad had decided to _save me. _I was suddenly furious. This wasn't _my _fault. This was _his_! If Vlad had just let me die, I wouldn't have the consciousness to see my humanity slip away. But he'd _saved _me. And then it hit me.

Why? Why had he used his precious serum on me, of all people? I was sure he would rather blow my head off of my undead shoulders than save me (shudder). But he had…and it was disturbing to wonder what the fuck could have motivated that lunatic. I shuddered (double shudder) at the thought. I may be a monster, but figuring out his brain was still an unappealing thought at best.

Something hit my side with a clatter. I jumped skittishly, spinning to face the offending object. I squinted at the ostentatious plastic, the bright red dully muted by the caves darkness. It was a lunch tray, almost identical to the kind Casper High had used, and from the smell there was a good amount of blood on it. It wasn't human blood. I breathed in deeply; it was cow blood. It didn't have quite the same call that human blood did, but it still had its own unique pull. I reached to the tray and picked up the slab of beef, finding it completely raw. (You need meat, you're just skin and bones!)

The presence of blood heightens my senses, and I hear the sound of a light footfall. There is someone in here. I sniffed again, dropping the beef back on the tray as I crouched and stalked forward on all fours like a hunting cat. Ectoplasm. Its smell is bitter and unappealing, but it's a good tracking device.

"Who's there?" My voice is deep and dark, foreign, "Plasmius?" I silently curse my inability to change into my ghost form as I continue forward in my predatory crouch. Two red eyes glow dimly in the cave, and I know who this is immediately. His hand illuminates with a bright fuchsia flame, lighting up half of the cave in an instant. I wince as my pupils hurriedly scramble to adjust to the new light.

"You rang?" Vlad snidely replies while staring down at me, his Plasmius form hovering slightly off the ground. I quickly stand at my full height, agitated that he still had at least three inches on me.

"Why?" I ask, my eyes narrowing. His ectoplasm is enough of a repellent to keep the cow blood from fogging my brain, but I didn't want to prolong this just in case my control broke.

"Why what?" His smirk is unhidden on his face. The bastard was toying with me, playing dumb just for the sake of aggravation.

"You know _exactly _what I'm asking. Why did you save me? Why didn't you let me _die_?" I'm circling him now, I don't know why, and I'm not even sure when I'd started, but it feels right. I'm reminding myself of a group of sharks, slowly circling the prey until…no! Vlad doesn't turn or move as I complete my third circle around him, standing completely still. It's frustrating. He wants to toy with me? Fine, but he's got to play the game my way.

Let's dance.

"You sound like you have a death wish, Daniel," He replies, still refusing to play, "Did you want to die?" I freeze mid-step and stare; he thinks I'm suicidal? (I'm not Emo, I'm Goth!)

"What? No!" I grit my teeth and (tried to) rake my fingers through my knotted hair. I couldn't be so flustered; it showed way too much emotion in front of a Fruitloop known for taking advantage of people, "I mean, I didn't try to get infected I—Gah! Never mind! We're getting off topic! Why did you save me?" _Smooottthhh_…

I stopped circling and stood directly in front of him, studying his face for any signs of deception. Nothing.

"Why not?"

_**Why not?**_ My life had been on the line and all he could say was 'why not?' I was literally stunned into silence. So that's what my life was to him. Just a big _why the hell not! _I turned away, walking back to the tray of food still waiting on the stone floor. I didn't feel like dealing with him. I just couldn't.

"Daniel." I ignore him. I feel drained from our short conversation. I'm hungry.

"Daniel, get back here." I growl in annoyance. Why won't he leave me alone?

"Daniel!" He grabs my right wrist and I let out a yelp of pain as his fingers close around the bite I'd inflicted on myself. He releases me as I spin around wildly, gripping the aggravated skin with my infected hand. I bite on my lip, his grip had opened up the recently scabbed bite and blood was now rolling down my arm in delicious lines. The blood absorbs into the bandaging of my left arm, soaking the slightly dirty bandages vibrantly red. I look up from the blood (believe me, it wasn't easy) to see the pieces fall into place in Vlad's eyes.

"You bit yourself?" He looks…almost attentive. Like he actually _cares_. And I feel ashamed. I don't know why I should; maybe because this bite is like admitting I was weak, weaker than I'd like.

"N-No…" I'm still holding my bleeding wrist in front of me, the blood starting to drip from my elbow and form a puddle at my bare feet. Vlad reaches forward, grabbing my wrist just above the bite before I come to my senses. _**NO.**_

I stumble backwards, tripping over my own feet and landing hard on my back. I don't care. The blood is becoming too much; I can feel the fog of bloodlust creeping over my consciousness, but I can't give in. Not in front of _him_. I hold my breath, forcing the fog back; banishing it to wherever it came from. I sit up to see Vlad staring down at me with mute agitation.

"Let me help you," he says while holding a hand out to help me up. I let out a snarl, my teeth grinding against each other uncomfortably. I not only refuse him, I smack his offered hand away and push myself up, still holding my breath. How dare he think I'd be stupid enough to _trust _him? How dumb does he think I am?  
>"What have I done—recently—to not make you trust me?" Oh, so now he's a mind reader? The blood is finally slowing and I take a deep breath strictly through my mouth. Fuck, I can taste the scent. The fog lingers at the edge of my mind, waiting, hoping, for a break in my guard. I can't respond; I don't have the air to spare. Vlad seems to realize this as he turns away.<p>

"Come, Daniel…or would you rather stay in the basement?"

Fuck it, why not?

-x-

"_I win…again." Sam grins as she sweeps the cards from the table. Normally, I wasn't all that bad at card games; actually, I was pretty good at them. But I was on edge, paranoid, if you will. We were in an old apartment, the door blockaded with bookshelves and dressers, and the windows were hastily covered with splintered two by fours. But I didn't feel safe…because of Sam. I feared not of her, but for her. I was safer. I could just go intangible and be out of harm's way, but what if I couldn't save her? _

_Her skin was so warm, and her face so alive, that it displayed how horribly human she was. Just one bite, one little nip, and I would lose her. No, not only would I lose her, I'd have to destroy her. I couldn't let her suffer like that. I could never keep her chained and watch her starve. _

"_Danny?" I look up; realizing I'd started crying, "Danny, what's wrong?" She scoots aside the ottoman we'd been playing cards on, shifting her stool closer to mine so her knees brush mine. So warm. I pull her to me and she settles on my lap, confused. I breathe in her scent, one hand grasping her hair while the other is splayed across her lower back. A large gash is there, and when I pull my hand from her back it comes back bloody. I choke back a sob._

"_What's wrong with you?" She's staring at me, and her eyes are so bright, gorgeous, and alive. It hurts to look at her; physically hurts._

"_I don't want to lose you." I say bluntly, unable to hide my thoughts from displaying from my face, "I can't." She stares at me and almost seems angry. Angry?_

"_You're the one who said 'you don't care about me in that way,' so if I go, it sucks but you should be ok, right?" Shit. I just called my own bluff, "I knew you were lying." She suddenly wraps her arms around my neck, and I feel her lips turn up in a smile against my shoulder. _

"_How'd you know?" She whacks me over the back of the head, shaking her head and muttering something along the lines of 'clueless.' Her lips moved to mine then in an unexpected heart stopping kiss. It's quick and chaste, but satisfying none the less. _

"_Why?" I ask in confusion, the kiss having been completely unexpected in every way. She smiles and shrugs,_

"_Why not?"_

_-x- _

The fog has evaporated in my head now that my self-inflicted bite is tightly bandaged, the strong aroma of blood now masked by the even stronger stench of hydrogen peroxide (yet another luxury I had yet to see in nearly two years.) But we have yet to touch my left arm, which is still wrapped in a dingy, blood soaked bandage. I don't want to touch it; I don't even want to acknowledge it.

"Daniel, the bandage _needs _to be changed." I look up at Vlad leaning against a nearby wall. He's remained in his Plasmius form while he bandaged my right wrist, seeming to know that the smell of my own blood drove me crazy with hunger and his ectoplasm helped mask the scent. My stomach snarled at the thought.

"I…I know," I say, unwillingly looking at my bandaged hand. Nearly all of it had been covered, only the tips of my fingers showing beneath the frayed bandage. The nails were gray, and the skin was blue with deep black veins running through them. I _really _didn't want to know what the rest of it looked like if this was any indicator. I swallow deeply, my throat feeling tight as I squeezed my eyes shut.

I tucked one finger beneath the bandaging at the crook of my elbow, shuddering at how cold the skin beneath feels. (_Deathly _cold.) I gnaw on my lip as I pull just slightly and the bandaging loosens minutely. Black veins are just visible underneath the loosened bandage, the skin paling minutely. I can't do it. I can't pull it any farther. I can't bear to unravel it myself. I feel like such a child; like a little kid that's afraid to take off a band-aid.

"Do it." I feel pathetic, and ashamed, and weak, but I know that I logically needed the bandage off. Vlad doesn't hesitate, taking my arm and stretching it completely out before expertly clutching the loosened bandage. Here goes nothing… As he unravels the blood sodden bandage I look away, unable to face it. Complete silence follows as I feel fresh air on the infected skin.

"You're going to have to look eventually, you know." Vlad says as he throws away the bundle of soiled dressing.

"I…" (What's up, Doc?) I shake my head. I don't need to see it, I can _smell _it. It's a smell that's hard to describe. Like, a mortuary, dead leaves, a tomb, and finally a small twinge of human blood mixed in a toxic cocktail. I clamp my eyes shut tightly, holding my two arms together in front of me, planning on a comparison between the two.

I open my eyes…

And faint.

-x-

_I have no choice. I slit my wrist, ectoplasm flowing out in sheets of luminescent green goo. I coat one hand in the ghostly blood, smearing it on Sam's neck and in her hair. She won't be safe without it. The stuff seemed to work as a repellent against the undead bastards, and we were surrounded. I cursed my own decreasing ability. A combination of a lack of food, sleep and overall relaxation had caused my powers to dwindle to almost uselessness. _

_There is no way out but through the front door. They wouldn't touch me as long as I was in my ghostly form, but Sam was fair game. Much too fair. _

"_Danny, we'll be fine," She's so optimistic that it makes me sick. I don't want her optimism to end her, but it just might. I hold her to me, silently coating her in my scent and ectoplasm before I kiss her like I'll never see her again. _

_Maybe I never will._

-x-

I'm in a bed. Like, with mattresses. I grabbed at it; waiting for it to disappear like a bed always does when I imagine one into reality. But it holds firm. And I'm fucking in love with this mattress. I turn over with a loud moan as I breathe in the scent of clean (if somewhat musty) sheets. Amazing. And there are pillows. I bury my head in the pillows, letting out another groan of comfort as I tighten the sheets around me.

I feel like a cat rolling around in a bin of freshly cleaned laundry (purrr…), but I can't help it. It's been two years since I'd last slept in a real bed, and this probably isn't even a really good bed. It's probably one of those bargain off the lot mattresses, but it could be made of clouds and angel wings for how great this feels.

Laughter. I jolt upwards suddenly, peering through the sheets tangled around me. And there the smug bastard is, sitting on a chair and watching me with a genuinely amused laugh.

"Uh…" I feel like a moron. Honestly, I do. I just rolled around in these sheets like a five year-old, so how's he supposed to take me seriously? Hell, I think I'm having a hard time taking me seriously.

"I'm glad you're enjoying my bed." _HIS _bed? I shoot from the bed like a flame had suddenly been lit beneath the mattress. I trip over the sheets still tangled around my legs and land in a graceless heap on the floor.

"Oh, fuck, that's just wrong!" I cry as I tear the sheets from my legs and throw them at the bed. Panting like I'd just battled an entire score of Fleshwalkers instead of a few sheets, I turn to Vlad, who is now dying of silent hysterics.

"Come on! That's not fair, Fruitloop!" He sighs, coming down from his fit of laughter as he leans back in his chair. He's in his Masters form, and I note how much more fragile he looks like this. His bones so much more breakable, his blood so much more appealing, and his flesh so much more eatable.

"No one ever said I played fair, my boy, and that is check and mate." I let out an aggravated breath and pull a hand through my matted hair, wincing as my fingers snag a particularly big clump.

"How long was I out, you pervy bastard?" He stands, brushing off his black slacks that are already caked with mud and tastefully sidesteps my insult. (Maybe because it's true?)

"About five hours." Good, maybe I can go ghost after a few hours of sleep. I call forward my ghost form, searching myself for the familiar chill of my ghostly alter ego. It surfaces around my waist as it always does but fizzles out in a spray of off white sparks. _Absolutely PERFECT. _

"I have a theory that the infection burns out your powers, I suppose I was right."

"Wait, wait…are you saying that as long as I have _this_—" I hold up my left arm (now garnished with brilliantly white bandages) "I can't go ghost?"

"That's right." I groan, falling back onto the bed and momentarily forgetting that it's _his _bed.

"This shit just got a _lot _more difficult." Vlad crossed his arms over his chest with a roll of his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be the hero that doesn't give up?" I roll off the bed, landing on the floor and scooting up against the side of the bed.

"Who is there to save? Zombies? Something tells me they don't give a fuck who Danny Phantom is…was…ugh…" I rubbed my forehead. I didn't like thinking about this, about who I used to be, and what I'd turned into.

"Not to interrupt your internal debate, but I could use Danny Phantom right now." I looked up, my teeth clenching. I was in no mood to be his pawn.

"Too bad, you said it yourself, I can't go ghost. Danny Phantom's not here right now. Can I take a message?" I almost laugh at my own joke (crazy…)

"Yes, actually," Vlad says as he stands beside me, forcing me to look up at him because I'm just too emotionally wiped out for movement, "You can tell him to get off of his _ass _and pull his own weight!" He slaps the back of my head so hard that my chin slams into my collarbone and I shoot up from my seat on the ground.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I can't pull my own Goddamn weight? That's all I've been doing for _two fucking years! _And you have the _audacity _to say _I _can't pull _my _weight? Maybe you should take a look in the mirror, you perverted narcissist!" He steps back from me but remains otherwise calm.

"You want to prove it?" I am so flooded with rage that I immediately respond.

"Yeah, sure! Why not?" I yell back, giving a snide laugh.

"Then you'll come on a necessities run with me?"

"Yeah! Wait…what?" I pause, confused at what I'd agreed to as he turned with a chuckle.

"Check…and mate, Daniel."

-x-

I tapped my fingers rhythmically on the armrest of the passenger seat of the Hummer. Its pitch black outside and it's a half moon. But the moon is hardly visible from behind the thick mask of clouds blanketing the night sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain suddenly starts to patter against the windshield in fat drops. I remember how badly I'd wanted this car. Sam had been so mad about it, what with how much of an environmental train wreck this thing is. Owl leather interior, twelve miles to the gallon, but a hybrid wouldn't mow down the undead like this rainforest wrecker.

"Are we there yet?" I ask with a childish sigh, trying to hide a devilish grin.

"I swear _to God_, if you don't stop asking, I will turn this car around _**right now**_!" Plasmius' hands grip the wheel so tightly that the blue skin turns a pale white at the knuckles. But I didn't care. I'm in a mood for aggravation.

"Are…"

"Don't do it, Daniel."

"We…" I'm grinning now, watching his brows knit together.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop." He grits his teeth so hard that I can hear his fangs grinding together.

"There…" I'm bouncing up and down in my seat like an excited child. Almost…

"Yet?"

"_**Gah!**_**" **The car suddenly fishtails, slamming me into the passenger window, "Are you _six_ or _sixteen_? Why don't you _shut up_? When we get there, I'll tell you!" I slid low in my seat, biting on my lip to keep in my uproarious laughter, "Do you understand?" (But _Daaaadddd…_)

…

"Yes, Uncle Vlad." He slams his forehead into the center of the steering wheel, the blaring horn nearly deafening me.

"Do you always have to be such a child?" He growls as he adjusts the windshield wipers and continues driving down the road. Not usually, no…

"Fleshwalker, ten points!" I cried as the right side of the Hummer slammed into a Phantom, the bones shooting up in the air, "Most of the time I'm not, but I consider it pay back." Plasmius dodged around a crude blockade as he replied.

"For what?"

"Let's see…you tried to kill me—_many _times, you tried to clone me, you tried to kill Danni, you tried to turn my own sister against me, and you hit on my Mom. That's all I've got right now, but give me some time; I'll come up with more." It's silent for a few moments, the only sound being the rain hitting the car and the loud hum of the Hummer's engine.

"Fine, guilty on all charges, but I saved your life, or did you forget that?" He smirks as he hits three floaters in a row, the front bumper catching them at the waist and causing them to rip in two. The top halves fly into the air while the back tires make mincemeat (Undead chum!) out of the bottom halves.

"Thirty points, and how could I forget waking up in front of thirty or so people _completely naked_?" He chuckles, shaking his head and a few strands of his black hair fall into his blood red eyes.

"I told them it wasn't necessary, but they insisted." I paused, picking at the leather of the seat.

"Who…who's they?"

"We call them 'The Vixen Wives' you'll be lucky if you don't encounter them again." I arched a brow.

"Do they normally strip people?" He looked over at me before looking back at the decimated road ahead.

"It's not rare." I sit back in the seat, looking out the window absently as I thought. I decided to follow his advice and steer clear of these 'Vixen Wives' if they had such a habit.

"How many are there?"

"Survivors? Thirty-five, and twelve of them are Vixen Wives." I let out an impressed whistle. Thirty-five? Amazing… It was strange how a number that hadn't meant much before the overtaking could mean so much more only two years later.

"Any other groups I should know about?" Vlad silently thinks, sitting back slightly and tapping the steering wheel with one finger.

"Well, there are the Children of the Corn." I laugh shortly, "They're all orphans, so they run off and do whatever it is that children do. They inherited the name because they really have formed their own society."

"Is that safe?" He shrugs, taking one hand off the steering wheel as he turns onto a road cluttered with Scavengers. I lose count of how many points he scores mowing them down.

"Probably not, but children are so disobedient." He pointedly gazes at me and I just look back, crossing my arms over my chest. The mention of children reminds me of Girl.

"When you saved me, did you find a little girl with me?" Vlad arches a brow but nods.

"Yes, the Children of the Corn seemed to have adopted her." I let out a long sigh of relief. Good, at least I wasn't a _total _failure.

"And she's the only one I found you with." He seems to say this more to himself than to me, but I can't help but wonder.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He's silent for a moment and the loud thump of splitting a Phantom into pieces is accentuated by a role of thunder.

"None of your family was with you." _Oh… _I tap on my knee as lightning flashes in the distance.

"They, uh…they didn't make it." Vlad is quiet for a few moments and his hand tightens on the wheel as his eyes dart around the road. It looks like he's searching for something to hit now.

"Even your mother?" I should've seen that question coming, honestly, I should have. But I didn't, and now we're both awkward in this car, the only sound cutting the silence being the rain and thunder outside.

"Yeah…even her." The car swerves a bit as his hand shakes and he has to grip the wheel with both hands. I stare out the window, absently running my hand up and down the armrest. I hear a sound like a cough and a grunt and the horn suddenly blares. I jump and stare at him. He's punched the middle of the steering wheel so hard that it's imploded and the airbag hangs out limply, a large singed burn mark marring its side. He has the steering wheel in a death grip, the metal rims moaning in protest as his hands close in around them with crushing force. I strap my seatbelt on.

"God-fucking-damnit." He murmurs to himself, his eyes glowing an infuriated red. He's not even looking at the road anymore, he's staring down at the dismembered airbag. Is he…crying? I almost feel sorry for him. He looks completely broken as he lets out a sigh and rubs his forehead. He looks up suddenly, slamming on the brakes and sending four Floaters into a fence where they explode into masses of black goo. He turns his gaze to me, red eyes rimmed with tears.

"We're here."

-x-

And….**BAM! **There's so much contrast! You got drama, then the romance, then humor, then angst! I can't handle this shit!...actually, yes, I can ^_^ I really liked how this chapter turned out (Arrreeee wweeeee theeerrreee yyeeeettt?) and I had a lot of fun writing it. Thanks to _**Rogue Alice, Satrinity,**__** Hellbreaker, Jakkeirafan223, and TD Inc **_for their awesome reviews! And of course, major props to Miss. Saty! The funnest Beta EVAH!

On another note, isn't Vlad just _adorable?_ I love him to death ^/^ He's so diabolical, you can't _not _love him! (Double negative, FTW!) _**UPDATE NEXT FRIDAI! September 9**__**th**__**! **_


	5. Chapter 5

You know those things in life that you just can't get away from? Those things that no matter where you go, or how far or fast you run, you can never _ever _get away from it? That thing, for me, is High Schools. A horrible fate indeed. I looked up at the faded sign marred with deep burn marks that declared this disheveled building as 'Heritage High School'. You could tell that at one point this school was something to marvel at, standing at least three or four times larger than Casper High.

But at this point, I didn't give a rat's ass. The last time I'd actually attended High School was just when the Overtaking had started, so excuse me if High Schools still left a bad taste in my mouth.

"Is this _really _necessary?" I asked Vlad as he handed me a pair of boots and a vest (yeah, now he can scavenge up some clothes…) He ignored me and began walking towards the school's main entrance. I hurriedly slipped on the boots and vest.

"This is one of the few buildings I haven't explored for supplies. We're going in." His voice is flat and nearly monotone. (I guess funny, joke around Vlad isn't here today.) I walk forward, matching his pace and studying him. He's looking forward, not at the school, but through it. I arch a brow, waving one hand in front of his face. He doesn't even register it, instead continuing to walk forward and seemingly ignore my hand.

He was somewhere else, or at least his mind was. I knew this because I had done the same many times before. While I would be flying to some destination (I never had anywhere to be) I would switch to a sort of subconscious autopilot, switching from seeing the landscape beneath me to being back home. Warm, in my bed. I would wake up to breakfast (questionably eatable) and claim to not be hungry before leaving the house to stop by the Nasty Burger with Sam and Tucker before school. That particular fantasy had caused me to run into many, many _(MANY) _things when I got too into the false reality.

We stopped at the doors; the intricate glass windows that must have once stood in glorious grandeur were long shattered, a few of the undead lying in the forgotten shards. The rusted doors hung limply on their hinges as we walked into what used to be a cafeteria. The long tables are shoved off to the side of the large room, the skylights in the ceiling throwing abstract shadows onto the blood stained tile floor. It's quiet, the only sound being the rain flying through the busted windows and scattering the forgotten notebooks and glass shards.

I wonder what this school must have looked like cluttered with students. Was it like my school? Would the popular kids be sitting in the corner where the destroyed vending machines are? Would the geeks be playing nerd poker over where the dismembered body parts are scattered like morbid parade confetti? (Bring the kids!) It hurts to see a place that's supposed to be so full of life rendered so empty and broken.

I shudder as I feel the deathly chill of the undead. They're around here, and there are a lot of them.

"Here." I feel cold steel press into my stomach and find that Vlad is shoving a shotgun in my general direction. I take it readily, recognizing it as the shotgun that I'd scavenged from the underground cave that Girl had led me through. Vlad seems to be waiting for me to make the first move (extremely odd) and simply stands idle beside me, scanning the ruins with a look of mute disinterest. I take in a breath, smelling the old blood masked with the retched smell of zombie goo. I frown; there are not many places to go.

The entrance to what used to be a gym is blocked off with piles of tables and chairs, which are way more trouble than they were worth. A sign hung on one hinge reading '_Main Office_' and had the words _'The END' _painted in red nail polish over it. While a mural of a peaceful country scene behind it with cows grazing in the background (Wisconsin…) had flames painted in the same red nail polish with the words '_Why us?_' etched into the paint.

Overall, it told a heart wrenching story.

"We should probably try to find some canned food over by the lunch line." I nod toward the cash registers lying on the floor, blood soaked bills clutched in a skeletal hand lying on the ground having been dismembered from its body. I walk over to it, Vlad following robotically and it makes me realize how boring he is when he's not being annoying or aggravating (remember this as the one time I wanted Vlad to be...Vlad-like.)

We make our way to the lunch line, seeing blood splattered on the menu board to our right. It read '_Today's Menu: Meatloaf, corn, mash potatoes' _and directly after it are the words _'with an extra helping of DOOM' _written in the blood. I almost laugh. As we make our way in we see three separate bars of rotted food that have sprouted their own mold colonies, rats nesting in a few of the deserted pans and serving dishes.

Well, it was an improvement in food, I guess.

I held my breath as I moved; the stench of undead blood, rotten food, and rat shit was a potent combination that my enhanced sense of smell couldn't stand. My boot collided with a fallen lunch pan, the metal dish skittering across the tile floor and slamming into a pile of forgotten lunch trays. The trays fell to the ground in an ear shattering clatter and we both jumped back, freezing in place.

_Graaaa…_

We hear them before we see them (well I smell them.) First ten, then twenty, then forty of the undead surround us. They ranged from Scavenger's to Phantoms and even Replicas were in the Horde. They were nearly all teenagers, forever doomed to never age. Some looked so young, thirteen at most while a few were faculty, some still wearing their nametags and security cards.

Vlad comes to life almost instantaneously, a deadly gleam finding its way into his eyes. He registers the Horde all at once, his hands suddenly illuminating in vengeful pink flames. I fumble the shotgun, nearly dropping it before holding it firmly. Compared to Vlad, I look like a kid with a squirt gun. The undead are slowly closing in, which is strange for them, considering they nearly always just scrambled over each other to get to fresh meat. I stare as he obliterates five of the undead, shooting a sharp shard of ectoplasmic energy through their foreheads.

Wow.

"What are you waiting for?" Vlad yells as he blasts away ten of the undead in one long sweep of an ectoplasmic blast. I remember the gun in my hands, cocking it hurriedly and taking down a measly two with one shot. I jump backwards as a Scavenger claws at me, barely avoiding its razor nails. My back slams into Vlad's and I can see the internal debate in his eyes. He wants to punch me (reflex response? I doubt it) but sticks to blasting away the enemy. I cock the gun again, this time taking out seven with a quick double-tap.

But they just keep coming and coming and coming… The shotgun shells are starting to clutter on the ground as I hurriedly fire, destroying Fleshwalkers that get to close for comfort and trying to count my remaining shells (4) at the same time. As their numbers start dwindling I hear a click.

_Click, click, click, click… _My blood drains from my face as I repeatedly slam on the trigger. Each click is nearly unheard over the screeching and moaning of the undead. But to me…it's like each tick is the tick of some sort of life clock. _Click, _five, _click_, four, _click_, three, _click_, two…

Vlad grabs me by the back of my vest, throwing me on top of the sneeze guard of the food line. I scramble up, clutching a support beam as the last of the undead charge forward. They aren't going after Vlad for food, they want revenge. But he takes them on like they're so easy that it's insulting (bitch, please!) and within minutes the last of the zombies are demolished on the floor. He obliterates the last one with a punch not to, but _into_,its head before blowing its skull apart with a blast of ectoplasmic energy. He stands in a half crouched battle stance in the center of a ring of fallen zombies, their bodies stacked on top of each other.

"Wow," Vlad suddenly falls from his battle stance, his hands losing their fuchsia glow, "That…that was pretty cool." I begrudgingly admit as I slide down and land on the floor.

"How do you think I've survived as long as I have?" He says with a gloating smirk as he wipes his goo covered hand on his pants.

"Well I didn't think you did anything that cool, you just blew it up!" And for a few moments I feel a sort of father son connection where we have a common point of interest. But moments pass and I let out an indignant snort.

"I could've done that," he laughs shortly, shoving me aside as he disappears into the massive pantry of the lunchroom, "and better!" There's the sound of glasses clinking against each other and the moan of soggy cardboard being pushed across tile.

"Anything?" His head pops out of the doorway with a devilish grin, his fangs catching the dim lighting.

"How do you feel about vodka?"

-x-

_ "I have a question." Sam growls in annoyance as the arrow she had been preparing to shoot misfires, burying itself deep inside a wayward tree. _

_ "What Danny?" She doesn't look at me when she asks, stringing another arrow._

_ "Well, fine, if you're going to be snappy about it, never mind." I sigh sarcastically, jumping onto a low hanging branch and using it as a makeshift hammock. She groans, mounting a hand on her hip, the other holding her bow._

_ "Seriously, what is it Danny?" She looks up at me, but I'm too busy rocking the tree limb back and forth while humming an absent tune, "Come on! Tell me!" She throws an apple at me, but I reach out and catch it before it collides with me. I grin, tossing it in the air before catching it again and taking a bite. _

_ "You really want to hear it?" I tease, my neon green eyes laughing silently at her. These are the moments I love. When we can act like actual teenagers, instead of just survivors._

"_Yes!" I take a deep breath, looking around as if the trees will hear my secrets._

"_Alright, come here." I wave her over and she begrudgingly follows, "Closer." She does and I can smell my own ectoplasm and the discount soap we'd scavenged after we'd escaped one of the most impossible situations. Call me, unconventional…call me, unpredictable… I nearly laugh at my choice of song._

"_Well, my question is…" I pause, knowing it was a bad idea to have brought it up in the first place, "The question that I might or might not do the asking of…this question—" She takes hold of both sides of my face, forcing me to look straight into her aggravated eyes. _

"_Danny, I swear, if you do not ask me whatever it is, you __**will **__regret it." Silence follows for a few moments as I search her eyes. I can only see that she plans to make good on her threat._

"_Ok…ok, no need for mutilation…I was just wondering something that's kind of been bothering me." She watches me intently, "What are we?" She lets me go, confused, "I know it shouldn't matter, but I'm pretty sure I'm not just your __**friend**__ anymore." The expression on her face is unreadable. _

"_You're such an idiot, Danny." She sighs as she joins me on the tree limb, causing it to groan at the small addition of weight, "The world is ending and you're worried about whether I'm your girlfriend or not?" _

"_Kind of, yeah." She flicks a strand of hair from my forehead._

"_Why does it matter?"_

"_Why are you so evasive?" _

_-x- _

Why was there a considerable cache of alcohol in a High School food pantry? Honestly, I didn't care. At all. And neither did Vlad apparently, who was perfectly fine with letting me (a minor) have an entire bottle of vodka to myself. The first sip had been wasted because I spit the stuff out. I was sure it tasted awful by itself, but the fact that my taste was for blood caused its bitter taste to be amplified.

But I powered through it, taking down an entire mouthful of the liquid fire. After that I really stopped tasting it, and finishing off the bottle wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would originally be. Of course, I wasn't the only one who had consumed more than my share of alcohol. Vlad had first downed half a bottle of wine (Always one to show how snooty and high class he was) before giving up on it in favor of an appealing bottle of whiskey.

"Ok…" Vlad slurs from his position lying on a metal shelf that had once housed various mediocre school food items, "What…what happened ex—" he interrupts himself with a hiccup, "exactly?"

"What-da-ya-mean?" I slur the question into one word as I settle myself on the shelf above his, staring at the underside of the shelf above me. I hear him sigh loudly beneath me as he drops an empty whiskey bottle to the floor where it shatters loudly.

"To Maddie." If there is one thing I have learned from this experience, it would definitely be that Vlad is a very somber drunk. Actually, he's more of a bipolar drunk. He would be ridiculously happy and excited but would randomly break down into sobs, and then he would be back on top of the world again. It was disorienting.

"The Fenton Portal, it just like…" I made an example with my hands as I imitated an explosion noise, "And that's it." He's silent for a few moments and I can hear him toy with an unopened bottle of vodka. Here comes depressed Vlad, pulling into the station. (Woo woo!)

"I don't know why I should care so much." He slides out from his shelf, landing on the floor and scooting to the opposite side so I can see him, he's a mess. His black hair that used to point upwards is now lying flat so it barely brushes his shoulders, but at least it looks clean, unlike my mass of matted hair. His red eyes are ringed with deep black circles, making him seem even more diabolical than usual and tears are brimming on the very edges, "It's…it's not like she ever loved me."

If this is some kind of ploy to make me feel bad for him, it's definitely working, as much as I hate to admit it. This is the weakest I've ever seen him, and he's really starting to sober me with how depressed he is. He's grasping his forehead in one hand while tilting his head to one side so he can still periodically sip from his whiskey bottle. But this is getting way too down for me; I think of what Tucker might have done in this situation…

"I went to a bookstore and asked the sales woman, 'Where's the self-help section?' She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose." It's stupid but I laugh, and Vlad looks up in confusion. Hmm…not quite good enough. I rack my brain for more Tucker-centric jokes.

"Man who stands on toilet is high on pot." I snicker, and Vlad stares with a shake of his head, clearly thinking I've lost it.

"If you spin an oriental man in a circle three times does he become disoriented?" I can't hold in my uproarious laughter at that one, and I actually earn a chuckle from Vlad as he reaches into a nearby box, pulling out a bottle of tequila.

"One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, _floor_…" We both laugh loudly as he pops open the bottle and I nearly fall from the shelf from the force of my laughter.

"Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways always going to Bangkok." I do fall from my shelf this time, nearly knocking myself out on the tile floor before I have the sense to push myself up and sit against the shelves. Vlad comes down from his own laughter, setting the tequila aside.

"Where did you get those stupid jokes?" I shrug, taking the tequila from him, no sense in wasting it.

"Tucker, mainly," I say as I rub the mouth of the bottle off on my vest before taking a swig. Yuck, I decide he can have that to himself.

"I'm guessing he didn't live either?" I growl in aggravation, scratching the bandaging over my infected bite.

"Jesus Christ, are you always such a downer? I mean, how's anyone s'posed to keep a good buzz with you around?" I ask as I lean forward, propping and elbow on my knee.

"Excuse me if I'm not freakin' Santa Claus, today has not been something to be happy about. Found out the love of my life is _dead_, saved a _very_ unappreciative punk teen, and battled the undead Hordes, but it's early yet, some more stuff will probably happen that'll make me wanna kill something." He empties a bit more of the tequila, spilling most of it when he pointed at me during his speech.

"You make me feel like a fuckin' lowlife, you know that? You make me feel like absolute scum. Always have, really." I shake my head, tossing my mane back and forth.

"Well, you are scum, so it makes sense." I clutch my chest like he's shot me, dramatically falling over.

"Ouch, Uncle Vlad, Ouch…" He pats my head like I'm a cat. (I knew he ended up getting a cat!)

"That'll do, pig, that'll do." I roll my eyes as he wipes his hand off on his shirt.

"You're an ass." He shrugs in a 'what're you going to do about it?' gesture. Touché…

_Help! _I sit up, looking around wildly. We look at each other to confirm that we heard that. _For God's sake, someone help! _We stand (shakily) before running from the pantry.

Someone is here. Someone alive.

-x-

_"Why do you have to be so fucking difficult all the time?" I yell as we press against the door. It groans in protest as the undead beat against it desperately. And it's all her Goddamn fault. _

_ "ME? Since when was __**I **__the difficult one? Last time I checked, you're the diva between the two of us." I snort and laugh sharply. Oh, please…_

_ "Is that so, Princess Manson?" The door cracks in half and we dart out of the way of a surge of Fleshwalkers. Even as she sends an arrow through three undead heads at once she comes up with a sharp retort._

_ "You are so… so full of yourself! I'm surprised you haven't become a zombie just so you could be part of the __**popular**__ group!" I blast four Fleshwalkers before I reply._

_ "Are you kidding me? You're still mad about Paulina aren't you?" She sends me a deep glare as she slices a few of the undead into pieces with a few well-placed arrows._

_ "No, this is about you being an arrogant asshole!" There aren't many zombies left and their numbers dwindle as I blast them into oblivion. _

_ "If you hate me so much, why do you even stick around with me?" _

_ "Good point," There are no more of them left, and she turns to me, a glob of undead blood on her cheek, "Maybe I won't anymore."_

-x-

I kick aside the door to the main office, the rusted hinges causing the door to fly into the darkness of the room. Schedules and other various papers are scattered across the room. A blue couch is thrown on its side, glass scattered on it from a window above it. The front desk's secretary still sits in her chair; her face mostly rotted away, only a few strands of disheveled blonde hair falling from her pale skull.

But she doesn't have a bite, she's killed herself. A noose hangs around what used to be her neck, someone having cut her down and placed her in her chair. I walk around her, smelling that her blood is long gone. A note stands out to me on her desk, written in panicked blocky print.

_They're here. We thought we could keep them away, but we couldn't. I'm sorry, Jenni. He's dead. They got Jacob. We had to put him out of his misery. No one deserves to lose their son like this. No one deserves to lose their children at all. Just be okay until I get there._

_ -Terrance_

We both frown, knowing that this was the note that must have triggered her suicide. It was sad, but it wasn't the first I'd seen. It was amazing how easily people gave up. Beneath the short letter are two words written in red ink with four hard lines drawn underneath.

_**IT'S OVER**_

_Is anyone there? _I jump. It's the voice we'd heard from the pantry, but it's stronger now. I take a deep breath. Blood. I lick my lips, my stomach snarling and the smell sobers me beyond belief. The fog replaces any buzz the alcohol held, returning with a vengeance as I follow Vlad down a narrow hallway leading to a large vault door reading _'Student Test Scores: FACULTY ONLY'_. But the fog is so overpowering that I can barely register the words as more than squiggling lines because to me, it only read _'Blood: WE GOT IT'. _

I pull open the solid steel door with ease and the dull light from the hallway throws a thick beam of light into the solid darkness of the vault. Right in the middle of the tall filing cabinets lays an older man, forty at most, with his right leg almost completely severed by a fallen filing cabinet. He lies in a pool of his own blood like turkey in a pan of its own juice (Mmmmm…) and I can feel the fog as it thickens and coats my mind, whispering at how good he'll taste.

Vlad has already picked up the filing cabinet from the man's leg and has moved to tying the gaping hole off to stop the bleeding. Oh, that is the _last _thing I want. He doesn't really need that leg does he? There's no way it'll work so why can't I just…take it off his hands? I don't trust myself to move forward and stand stiffly in the doorway.

"Daniel, I could use some help here." The man is frantic and I can hear his heart beating erratically. I taste the air like a snake searching for prey, waiting… surveying …hunting. Vlad looks up with aggravation but soon realization comes to him.

"Daniel, stop. He needs our help. I know you're stronger than this." Vlad seems to have sobered completely as well, the drunken haze completely evaporated from his features. And it hurts to know that he thinks so much of me.

"Stop, don't make me hurt you." The snarl that rips through my teeth is loud and echoes in the small room. I'm suddenly on all fours in what has become my hunting stance. I survey how much blood has leaked from the man (exactly 1.5 liters) and stalk forward. His leg is crushed at the knee like a melted candy bar that's been crushed in its wrapper and it's holding on to his body by only a few withering tendons. He'll barely feel it if I just…I just…

"W-What the hell is wrong with him? He's infected isn't he?" The man is panicking, kicking his good leg frantically.

"Yes…no. Somewhat." Vlad answers the man before lunging forward at the exact moment I do, catching me by the neck as I jump toward the man. We land hard in the puddle of blood, the delicious liquid splashing into my mouth and nose. I go blood _crazy_. I let out an outraged snarl as I flip over and throw Vlad into a row of filing cabinets. He's not keeping me from my meal. This blood is an appetizer, and lying before me, immobile and frightened, is the main course. (Dinner is served! Get it while it's bloody!)

"Holy shit! Get the hell away from me!" He kicks at me, but I dodge his strikes easily and grip the smashed leg. At that moment Vlad rams into my side, sending me skidding across the hard tile. But not without that leg. His hit causes me to rip the already crushed leg off at the damaged knee (I'll have my meal to go…) and the man is crying out in agony. I feel nothing for him.

Vlad stands between me and the rest of my meal, but I'm perfectly fine with my portion. But he seems hell-bent on taking it from me.

"You don't want to do that." But he's wrong; he must be, because I want it more than I've ever wanted anything.

"Motherfucker, you better not eat my leg! I'll kick your undead ass!" (With one leg?) The man screams directly at me, sending a deadly glare my way. I readily return (the leg? Fat chance) the look. The fog is jumping and swirling erratically in my mind, doing silently rounds of joy.

Have you ever tasted something so good that you do this little "mmmm…" of joy and slid down in your seat? Well, imagine that, only about ten times better. That's how this leg tasted. My eyes flutter closed as my teeth sink into the flesh and my teeth sail through the flesh, muscle and finally the bone. I let out a groan as I swallow it, the bone scratching and scraping at my throat as it goes down. (Meat, why do you hurt so good?)

And then the regret came. Vlad sprung forward, landing a harsh punch to the side of my head. I slumped on the floor in a limp heap, feeling like my brain had been liquefied. He tilts my head up so I am forced to look at him. He looks heartbrokenly disappointed.

"How weak, Daniel. How very, very weak…"

Everything gets a little fuzzy after that.

-x-

_"Do you know what happens when a dog eats a chicken? They get a taste for it."_

_ "I…I know. But he's not a dog, he's a person."_

_ "That thing in a cage is not __**a person! **__That's a monster and you know it, Vlad!"_

_ "Let's not jump to conclusions."_

_ "He ate my leg! What other conclusion jumping factors do you need?" _

_ "I shouldn't need more, but I can't do that. He still has a conscience…somewhere... he just needs to work on his self-control. I'll teach him."_

_ "Fine, keep your pet. But if it were up to me, I would put a bullet in his head myself." _I blink groggily with a whimper. I feel bruised and battered, but for once I don't feel hungry. Actually, I feel pretty damn satisfied. It hits me why moments later. I was officially a cannibal.

"You up, you sick son of a bitch?" I look up through thick metal bars to the source of the voice. It was the man from the vault. He sits in a rusty wheelchair, his face painted with a permanent scowl. Awkward…

"Uh…yes?" I immediately find that this was the wrong answer as he kicks at the cage with his only foot, the other leg cut off and bandaged just before the knee. I jump backward, immediately nauseas and dizzy from such quick movement.

"Scott, that's not necessary." Vlad says as he walks forward to stand beside vault man, otherwise known as 'Scott'.

"At this point, I don't fucking care." He says up to Vlad before turning his attention to me, "Listen, you freak of nature, if it wasn't for your Dad over here," he nods to Vlad and I arch a brow, _Dad?_ "I'd cut you open and get my leg back myself."

"Hey, I didn't eat _all _of your leg! I took one bite!"

"You really don't remember do you? Well, let me enlighten you." Scott gives a nearly literal ear-to-ear grin.

"There's no need for that." Scott holds up a hand.

"No, it's my pleasure," He leans down in his chair to get eye to eye with me, "Well, after you so gleefully got a bite of my leg, you tried to come for the rest of me, but Daddy here nearly tossed you through the roof. After that you seemed to get the message that you weren't getting your paws on me. So, you settled for my leg, which you happily devoured. All of it. Even the bones." I feel horribly sick and my breathing gets shallow as I put a hand over my mouth.

I…I thought it had just been one bite. I shake my head in disbelief.

"No…I wouldn't…" Scott grins as tears gather in my eyes, "You're lying! I wouldn't—I didn't!"

"I'm afraid you did, my boy." I stare up at Vlad who is looking somberly in the other direction.

"Oh my God…" I whimper as I curl in on myself in the corner of my cage.

"Well, I think my work is done here." Scott then turns his chair around and rolls out, grinning all the way. I'm silently sobbing now, wiping my tears on the back of my hand. I'm still hoping that I hadn't done that. Hoping, that I still had a shred of decency.

"Daniel, I think you should take a bath." I look up at Vlad incredulously. A bath? _**A bath? **_I'm over here in serious need of comfort and his best offer is a bath?

"You're, um…" He coughs awkwardly, "A…a little bloody." I look down at myself to find my chest, vest and pants are stained red with dried blood. He unlocks the cage and I crawl out. I stretch to my full height only to have Vlad pin my hands behind my back and lock them together with handcuffs.

"The other survivors don't think it's safe for you to be free." I understand and don't protest as he leads me down a rocky corridor. I realize that we must be back at the survivor hideout, and I also note that it is suspiciously devoid of people. As we reach a solid metal door he unlocks the handcuffs and opens the door. I step in, my head hung low.

I don't deserve such amenities. Monsters don't take baths. I hear the door lock from the outside and wince. Even he thinks I'm a monster, but I can't blame him. I've given him no reason to think I'm a reasonable person. I tug off my blood soaked vest and freeze when I step in front of a dusty full length mirror. Half of my face is dyed red with blood and blood trails rained from my mouth to my chin and down my entire front side.

But _the eyes. _I step closer to the mirror, the stranger on the other side doing the same. He looks wild, and feral, like a rabid wolf on a leash. The eyes that stare back aren't blue, but a sickly yellow color, glowing with almost a ghostly energy. These…these are the eyes of a Fleshwalker. This is the fog incarnated in my eyes. It makes everything much too real. I've seen these very same rabid, wild eyes on the undead as they scrambled to get to me. Crazy with hunger. Tears brim in the stranger's eyes and he grips his face with a cry of internal agony.

What have you done with Danny? I want to cry at the mirror but instead settle for charging forward at it and slamming my fists into the fragile glass. It shatters into a thousand pieces around me and I slide down the wall beside where the mirror used to stand. The shards reflect my feral image a thousand times, every single one staring back at me and asking the same thing.

What have you done?

-x-

_I chase after her, cursing her lithe runner's body. She's much too fast, too quick. She's always been able to outrun me, and that massive use of my powers during our argument made it impossible for me to push my waning powers any further._

_ "Sam! Get back here!" And to my surprise, she actually halts. I almost slam into her but stop at the last possible moment. She turns around, her eyes giving me a look I'd never seen before. They screamed murder._

_ "Why? Why in the world would I want to stay here?" Good question…_

_ "Because…because…" She crosses her arms over her chest, raising a brow, "Because I'm an idiot." _

_ "Excuse me?" I take in a deep breath._

_ "Because I'm an idiot, and I need your help—no, that's bullshit. I need __**you**__." She smiles, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose._

_ "God, I hate you Danny." I frown deeply, "You're clueless, aggressive, idiotic, annoying, childish and…ugh, I hate how much I love you sometimes." The silence between us is defining. I stare at her in shock. _

_ "I…I love you too, Sam…but," She looks up in shock, "how much do you love me again?" She slams her palm onto her forehead with a breathy laugh. _

_ "Enough to stay." _

-x-

I feel somewhat numbed to gore after what I'd done. It was slowly coming back to me, the flesh, and the wild, unhinged hunger as I devoured Scott's leg. So it came as no surprise that I could better handle the sight of my infected arm. I traced one of the prominent black veins leading to the scabbed over bite mark. The entirety of the skin there was an off shade of blue, somewhat reminiscent of Plasmius' skin tone. The black veins illuminated themselves with some sort of internal energy and the bite's edges are a bright green.

Touching the arm felt odd, like it wasn't my own. It was somewhat like when a limb that had fallen asleep, but I didn't care. After my outburst I felt extremely placid and drained. I sighed as I soaked my hair in the blood tinted bathwater and began yanking a steel toothed comb through my mass of hair. As I brushed, dirt and blood fell along with clumps of fallen hair that had been caught in the tangles.

It took nearly fifteen minutes (and a fair amount of swearing) to finally work all of the knots out of my hair, but I managed and stood from the soiled water. I pushed aside the tattered curtain and found a towel draped over the sink and a stack of fresh clothes and bandages lying next to it.

How it got there? I didn't care. Who put it there? Don't care about that either. I just wanted to go away. I wanted to disappear, to curl in on myself and evaporate from existence. But Damnit, that's not how physics work (Maybe? I really was horrible at school in general.) So, I hurriedly dried and wrapped my wounds in the bandaging. As I tugged on a pair of jeans and a worn, off white t-shirt I heard a conversation on the other side of the door.

_"I actually came from a different survivor colony." _It was Scott, "_it was getting a little too crowded there though, so I decided to go my own way."_

_ "Oh, really? Where is this colony?" _Vlad's voice rang on the other side of the door.

_"100 miles at most, I took one of our emergency vehicles here but ran out of gas at the school. In retrospect, it wasn't a great idea. I probably should have stayed. The colony has a great leader. She's very strong, very smart. Very mature for her age."_

_ "Who's your leader?"_

_ "Sam. Sam Manson, I think it was." _I stumble against the door, banging on it.

"Did you say Sam Manson?" I cry through the door, trying not to get my hopes up.

_"Yes, I did, who wants to know?"_ My mouth turns up in a hopeful grin. Damnit.

"Is her full name Samantha Manson?"

_"Yeah…but she hates it when people call her that."_ I let out a cry of joy, my spirits suddenly lifted. I'd done it.

I'd found Sam.

-x-

This took me an entire day to write. Like, I literally started writing at 8 AM on Saturday and finished at 9:47 PM. All I did Saturday was sit on my bed and type on my computer. This chapter's longer than the others by about 1,800+ words, I'm a madwoman . And it's freaking sick. Danny ate a guy's leg XP that's so disgusting…

Me: Bad Danny! Put that leg down!

Danny: Grrr….

Me: *hits Danny with rolled up newspaper* Bad! Now, go fetch Sam!

Thanks to _**Inuyuke,**_ _**son of wind, Rogue Alice, TD Inc, Wings-Of-The-Owl, Hellbreaker, kuroneko52 **_and _**Jakkeirafan223**_ for their reviews. They are my crack ^_^ And of course, another shout out to _**Satrinity, **_for being the awesome beta (and therapist :P) that she is. Go Saty!

OH, and I almost forgot.

_Replicas:_ Extremely well preserved zombies that, if viewed in dim light or from a far distance, can pass for human. Because most of the major joints are still intact, they have extremely good agility and movement.

_**QUESTION TIME, kiddies!: In medical terms, Scott's (blank) was crushed, thus causing his leg to be easily torn off. In medical terms, what did Scott lose? **_

_**HINT: Starts with a 'G' **_


	6. Chapter 6

The Rebel Region. That's where I need to be, and with a name like that, it was a no brainer that Sam was its leader. And she was so close. For months I'd been searching for her and she'd been right below my feet. Literally. Apparently, the Rebel Region is located underground in an old, abandoned mining camp (according to Scott). A mining camp I was sure I'd passed at least four or five times.

"But I don't _get _it." I said as I shifted in my cramped cage, "If she was ok, then why didn't she try to find me?" According to Scott she never even mentioned me.

"Maybe she didn't want to find you. Didn't think of that, did you?" I glared at Vlad who stood nonchalantly against a nearby wall. What a grand help he is.

"Yes! No…why wouldn't she want to see me?" I leaned back against the bars of my cage, pulling my legs up to my chest. I didn't quite fold in as well as I used to.

"The only way to answer that would be asking her that very question, isn't it?" I pause, unsure of what he's asking.

"Are…are you actually going to help me?" I ask incredulously.

"What do you think I've been doing?" He asks with a strong undertone of agitation, "In the course of only two days I've saved you many times over! And believe me, if I wanted you dead, you would've been by now." Wow, that's…comforting.

"But why? What good could I possibly do for you?" He sits in a nearby chair, crossing one leg over the other with a tired sigh.

"An excellent question, but it's also one I don't currently have an answer for." You've got to be kidding me.

"So you saved me, just because?" He shrugs.

"When you asked this question before, and I answered 'why not', I wasn't being mysterious. I was telling the truth." Well, that's not exactly the answer I wanted. Not by a long shot.

"That's really out of character for you. You don't do things 'just because', and you're not a 'why not' kind of guy. Usually, you have some long, planned in advance scheme that I only find out about when it's nearly completed." He looks away but by the look on his face I can tell he's thought the exact same thing before.

"Disturbing, isn't it? I know you're more of a liability than an asset, but I suppose I thought you could serve _some _purpose." I frown, the fact that he was speaking in past tense meant that my time for serving any helpful purpose had come and gone, "Anyway, we should, how do you say it…beat the road?" I laughed.

"It's hit. Hit the road."

-x-

_16 years. I have waited 16 entire years for this, and now I can't fucking go through with it. What a sorry excuse of a man I am._

"_Sam." It's hard to speak around her mouth but I manage. She lets out a groan of annoyance, tightening her grip on the bottom hem of my tattered shirt. She shifts and her hips rock against mine. Oh, Jesus Christ…_

"_Sa-am." My voice hitches as she rocks her hips again. Now, I'm sure she's doing this on purpose. I take hold of her teasing hips in an attempt to push her off of me but she takes the action as a sign of encouragement and pulls my shirt over my head before throwing it aside. This has to stop._

"_Sam!" I flip us over so she's now lying beneath me and I pin her devilish hands above her, "We can't." She stares at me in confusion and aggravation, the lusty glaze slightly clearing in her eyes._

"_And why not?" She twists, making sure to rub against me like an overly affectionate cat. Purrrr…. No! I stifle a rough moan and have to physically shake my head to regain the ability of speech._

"_We just can't. There's too much risk." She snorts, freeing one of her hands and grasping the back of my neck forcefully. Her long, delicate fingers intertwine with a few strands of my hair as she forces my head down. She bites at the nape of my neck and I can't hold in the growl of passion that shudders in me. My hand drops from holding her other hand above her to push against her shoulder. When did she become such a succubus? Her bite deepens, and I can feel her tongue swipe at the small amount of blood that results. _

"_Neh…no…" I murmur out, half speaking, half moaning. As her hand touches the very bottom of my abs I get a fresh burst of insight, suddenly regaining my mind. _

"_NO!" And I want to punch myself as Sam stares at me. It's like I turned down Aphrodite and Victoria Secret's love child. Clothes askew, hair a mess, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Oh man, what is __**wrong **__with me?_

"_Alright," Sam says as she sits up, "Aren't I supposed to be the one worried about virtue here?" I laugh shortly and sit beside her. _

"_It's not that at all." I answer with a sigh as I run a hand through my disheveled mane, "It's that…er…unless we're both __**very **__lucky, there won't be anything to…uh…" Why is this so difficult? "Uh…babies?" Finally, realization suddenly comes to her and she sits a little more rigidly. It's not that I don't want her (not that at ALL), it's the fact that we're barely able to make it with just us. Add a kid to that? We would be doomed. _

"_Ah…so…" She rings her hands, "we should sleep then?"_

"_Yeah…I'll sleep on the floor." _

_-x-_

I felt like a kid on his way to the candy store, or Disney World, or the world's biggest playground. I bounced in my seat, hurriedly tapping my fingers on my arm rest. My cheeks were on the brim of tearing with how big my grin was.

"How much longer?" I ask as I suddenly turn in my seat to look at Vlad.

"If you start that 'are we there yet' loop, I will disintegrate you. And I _will _enjoy it." He snarls, his fangs bared in outright anger. I laugh, my mood uplifted.

"Oh, I won't. I don't need to annoy you…for now. I'm going to see _Sam_." I let out a contented sigh, leaning back in my seat. She was so close that I could feel it.

"I shouldn't be surprised, really." My grin faltered, and I stared at him in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?" That Vlad trademarked grin crept across his features. My grin completely disappeared.

"Oh, Mayors have a lot more cameras around a town then you might think." _Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump_. The wheels of the Hummer pummel four Fleshwalkers in a row.

"Wh…What did you see exactly?" I cough awkwardly.

"Hmm…not much."

Oh, thank God.

"Except—"

No. He didn't.

"Does the term 'fake out make out' mean anything to you?" I slam my palm to my forehead, mostly to cover the fierce blush. He saw. One of the most intimate ( yet fake) first moments of Sam and mines relationship, and he fucking saw. Not only did he see, but he probably _watched_. That dirty old perv. But maybe I could save myself.

"N-No… why…why would it mean anything? It rhymes, so what? Did you make that up yourself? I—" He removes one hand from the steering wheel to hold in front of my face, silencing me.

"Daniel, for having a secret identity, you are an atrocious liar. Absolutely awful. It's a wonder no one ever found out your secret while everyone knew about you and this Manson girl." His hands return to the wheel as he turns off onto a forgotten road, the front bumper slamming into a rusted chain link fence, tearing the steel to pieces. It then acquainted the fencing with the hard packed dirt with its rims. It's big, spinning rims…

We're getting closer.

"What thing? There's no thing! We were—are—just _friends_." Fuck buddies? No, no, no, no, no…

"Never doubt experience, dear boy, and _that _is one thing I have a great amount of. And my experience is telling me that you have the same affection for her that I held for Maddie." I don't know why I do things, but what I say next makes me doubt, not my reason, but my sanity.

"Well…at least Sam actually loved me back." In one fatal swoop I called my own bluff _and _destroyed Vlad. It's a two-for-one special from Hell. Vlad's smirk immediately drops, replaced by a heartbroken grimace. His hands tighten on the already crippled wheel, the center having been ripped out and the wheel bent from our last drive. Wow.

I.

Am.

Terrible.

"Look," I sigh, "I'm sorry. That was out of line. Totally uncool." The glare he sends me tells me that I've hit quite a nerve and I decide that shutting up would be best right about now.

"No…" He clears his throat, "No, that was a good hit. You used your opponent's weakness against him, very well placed. Like I've said before, I really am teaching you something." I scoff. I really, really, don't get him sometimes. Was he congratulating me for hurting him?

"You are such a Fruitloop. I mean…wow."

"And you are getting more and more like me with every encounter. So, what does that make you?"

-x-

_She curls into me with a cough. I frown, stroking her matted hair as she shudders. I change to my human form almost instantaneously, knowing that my body is warmer this way. I sigh into her hair, knowing how finicky she is when she's sick._

"_Thanks, Danny," She smiles against the crook of my shoulder, "I'd kiss you, but I don't want to get you sick." I grin and press her tighter to me._

"_Such a shame, really." I reply and kiss her forehead, "I guess I'll just have to…kiss…you everywhere…else." I punctuate my words with a kiss to her cheeks, nose and chin. She lets out a small moan as I kiss at her neck._

"_Mmm…that would sound very suggestive if you weren't such a wholesome, virtuous, chaste boy." Her tone is smirking and is a clear taunt even though it's slightly nasal from her clogged nose. _

"_I'd like to remind you that I am a sixteen year old boy, so I am neither wholesome, nor virtuous." I kiss her shoulder. _

"_I don't here you objecting to chaste." I kiss down her right arm, frowning as my lips brush a deep scratch. I kiss down her hand and down each finger, feeling her worn nails against my lips. _

"_Yes and no, I can't tell you I'm being abstinent because 'abstinence is cool!'. That's a load of horseshit. Abstinence is painful." I move to her other arm, kissing up each finger and up to her wrist. More bruises, more scratches. Some I remember from before the Overtaking. A scar from the fifth grade when we had a fight and I accidentally stabbed her hand with a pencil. A nick from seventh grade when she closed a locker door on her wrist. But others are new. A scratch from a zombie knocking a steak knife onto her hand. A gash from an unexpected ledge jabbing her elbow. _

_I wish my kisses could erase them._

"_It's not like we can run to the local pharmacy for some Trojan." I stifle a laugh. _

"_Do you take debit?" I quote the long forgotten commercial as I kiss just below her collarbone. Now I am entering dangerous territory. She doesn't object as I move only an inch lower but my awkwardness strikes and I skip her chest, moving to her stomach. Ugh, I fail at life. _

"_If you kiss any lower then you are guaranteed to get sick." It's almost worth it, but I know if I start then there is absolutely no way I could stop. (You can't have just one!) Damn, teenage hormones._

"_I think…" I tease, nipping at the waistband of her jeans and she gasps, "we should go to sleep." She lets out a disappointed groan, curling into my chest as I move back up and put my hands where they won't be tempted. I can feel her heartbeat against me like a frightened rabbit. She coughs and smiles up at me._

"_Goodnight, my chaste Danny." _

"_Goodnight, my seductive Sam."_

_-x-_

"Do not trespass…visitors unwelcome…go away…shield ahead." I murmur under my breath as I read signs posted on the twisted trees. But the trees are periodically getting thinner and thinner until there are no surroundings at all, only a few mounds of dirt and rock with the occasional Fleshwalker mulling around. And out of nowhere the dashboard of the Hummer lets out a groan before shooting out an uproarious rain of sparks. The car sputters and the sound of the engine slowly dying is defeating to say the least. And as if that weren't enough, a thick layer of spike strips shred all four of the Hummer's beefy tires, causing the wheel to jerk out of Vlad's grip and the car spins wildly off the road.

The triple whammy of car failure causes the Hummer to skid across the dirt before finally teetering on top of a precariously high mound of dirt. We look at each other, the car eerily silent after such a loud display.

"I think we should've listened to the signs." I say, pointing one thumb behind us.

"Butter biscuits." I roll my eyes before popping the door open and climbing out while Vlad simply phases through his door. He studies the disheveled car, kicking one desecrated tire, "Fudge buckets." I sigh, running a hand through my hair, still slightly damp from my bath.

"Guess we're walking." I say with a shrug. I'm not about to let a little (a lot) of car trouble keep me from Sam.

"A la chingada!" He kicks another tire so forcefully that the axel bends inward, causing the car to lean on one side. I arch a brow. My Spanish is rusty (if not nonexistent) so I can't quite tell what expletive he yelled. He stalks over to me, holding a hand out.

Oh, fuck no.

"Yeah, I'll walk." I take a large step back.

"I can fly us there much faster than you could ever walk." True, but I'd rather waste time than be held one-hundred feet above the ground by my archenemy that I wouldn't trust to hold even my most invaluable possession, let alone me. That and he would be holding me. That makes the weird pedo factor go waaayyyy up. Yeah, I'll take my chances.

"Ugh, you brat." Vlad growls as he walks alongside me, "You could be reasonable and allow me to fly us to her, but no. You have to be stubborn. You are such a teenager." We don't get far, five, ten feet at most before a bullet hits the ground right before us. If I'd taken one more step it would've gone through my foot. I jump back, both of us looking around frantically for the source of the gunfire. But this area is deserted, only more rocks and dirt span before us.

"_Don't come any closer, ya' hear?" _The voice comes out of nowhere, literally. There's no person around us. And then the scenery in front of us shifts dramatically. In an instant, it changes from flat ground to a giant, solid blue dome.

"Come any closer and you're gonna' to lose ten pounds out'ta yer' head!" On the other side of the dome are two men, both brandishing rather intimidating rifles. Or, I think they are, but the dome is so thick that I can hardly see through it.

"Don't you mean out of my foot?" I taunt, Vlad sending me a glare. The man cocks the gun angrily, "Whoa! It was just a joke!" I turn to Vlad offhandedly, "You couldn't have brought the guns, Uncle Vlad?"

"Ignore him, gentlemen." I nearly laugh at the use of that term, they hardly seem the gentlemanly type (A spot of tea, gentlemen?), "We don't mean any harm, and we only came because we heard there is a survivor camp here. We wish to see its leader." (We come in peace! Take us to your leader!)

"Humph…ya' seem to be ok…what about that one?" He waves at me with the barrel of his gun, "What da'ya want?" You're a bright one aren't you?

"I'm here to deliver the pizza!" They look at each other and simultaneously point their guns at me, "I'm here with him for the same thing." I point to Vlad. For a moment, they buy it.

"Wait a second…you!" He motions to me, "Get closer, lemme' take a gander at ya'." I look to Vlad for help but he simply shrugs before shoving me forward. I hit the shield, the outside feeling smooth, like glass, but the substance it's made out of turns a sickly grin where my fingers make contact. I stare, and focus in on the intricate lines making up the material. Tiny, vein like wires are woven throughout the glass, and as I run my hand across the surface the green follows and the wires brighten. The men step forward, touching the glass as well as they examine me. Where they touch the dome it turns a happy yellow, the wires turning dark blue. Strange. They must see something they don't like because their faces cloud over with rage.

"Yer' infected! I don't know how yer' talkin', but I'm gonna' put a stop to it!" I duck just in time to avoid a bullet through my head, "Look at them eyes…the devils eyes if I've ever seen 'em!" The other man scrutinizes me as well, and raises his gun. Vlad steps in and turns me intangible, the bullet sailing through my intangible neck.

"I see what yer' doin'! Yer' tryin' to sabotage us! You did pretty good disguisin' yer' monster. Almost bought it there for a second." What am I supposed to do? Say I'm not infected when it's obvious I am? This guy's intelligence tells me that he won't get that I'm not here for a brain sampler. (mmmm…idiot flavored!)

"He's not infected! The undead can't speak!" Vlad argues, standing between me and them, making me feel like a little kid hiding behind Mommy.

"How da'ya explain those eyes then, huh? Piss yellow and glowin' like a demon!" Although he could have put it way more delicately, he's right. My eyes are pretty hard to dispute. And Vlad knows this too, because he's gone quiet. (Oh, I ate a man's leg, but it's okay, because I feel really bad about it...Can I come in now?)

"Okay, okay…you seem like…_reasonable _people," See, I'm a good liar! "So I'm going to be honest. Yes, I carry the infection so I'm sort of infected." _Click! Click, click! _Their guns seem to be out of ammo, and I'm almost deliriously happy about it, "Look, I'm not going to bite. I swear I'm just here to see Sam."

"How'd ya' know her name, ya' monster?" A low growl of aggravation rattles in my throat. I do _not _have time for this.

"Because I'm fucking psychic, just let us in!" My patience snaps in an instant and I leap forward, slamming my fists into the dome. It turns a blazingly red color and I feel a shock akin to sticking my hand into an electrical outlet. I fall to the ground with a comical yelp of pain. One of the men takes out what looks like a TV remote from his pocket with a grin.

"Hmmm…No."

And the dome disappears, leaving only the desolate landscape before us. I'm surprised for a moment, staring dumbly at the sky before scrambling to my feet. I reach forward, my fingers brushing the now invisible, glasslike surface. I can mutely hear their laughter on the other side.

"What now?" I snarl as I spin around. Sam is on the other side of this dome and I still can't reach her. Un-fucking-believable. Vlad steps forward, pressing his own hand to the surface of the dome. He tries to force a section of the dome to become intangible but it backfires, harshly zapping him. Ghost proof. Perfect.

"Do you know anything that could break this, Daniel?" He says this quietly, making sure that the hicks guarding the dome can't hear us. Only one thing comes to mind. I only know of one power that could easily shatter any barrier. Ghost proof or not.

"My Ghostly Wail, but there's no way I can use it when my powers are this weak." I hold up my left hand, flexing the stiff fingers.

"Can anyone else use the Ghostly Wail?" No…(lie)

"Yes, but…no…" I physically wave off that the thought. I don't know where we'd find a ghost portal out here even if I did want _his _help. Vlad stares at me.

"I shut down my Ghost Portal before I had to abandon my home so it wouldn't explode. If the problem is getting to the Ghost Zone, it's easily solved." Why can't that be a problem? Please?

"Umm…the car's busted. We can't get there." I cross my arms over my chest.

"I can still fly." Damnit.

"He won't want to help anyway!" I'm getting desperate now. I'm already teamed up with one archenemy, I don't need both.

"I'll convince him."

Good luck with that.

-x-

_Amity Park was long gone. It was way behind, and it seemed a lifetime ago that we were there. A lifetime ago when we'd sat in the Nasty Burger and talked about unfinished homework, and recently defeated ghosts. When Tucker sat across from us and made dumb jokes while hitting on girls that were so out of his league that it was almost funny. But that was a long time ago, and there was no going back. Not now, not ever. Or at least, that's what I'd thought. _

_It was coming up on two years since we'd last been to Amity Park but now here we are, standing in front of Casper High. I'd thought it was in bad shape when I went to school here but now…it is, quite frankly, a fucking train wreck. The windows are all busted in, long extinguished burn marks mar the schools tortured profile, and the letters of 'Casper High' on the front of the school are worn and tested, a few threatening to fall off._

_To think a band of survivors are rumored to be hidden in the school's basement is mind-blowing. We look at each other and Sam coughs. I frown; she's still suffering from a fierce cold. The only reason I'm safe is because my ghost form (which I stay in for the majority of my time) is nearly immune to sickness. _

"_Well, here goes nothing." She says with a shrug as she enters the school doors, bow and arrow at the ready. I hesitate at the doorway; I have a bad feeling about this. A horrible suspicion that whatever's on the other side of these doors isn't friendly._

_Here goes nothing. _

-x-

Of course Vlad's portal had to work perfectly.

Of course Clockwork was nowhere to be found.

Of course the thermos was right in plain sight.

Of course, of course, of—motherfucking—course. I tried to warn him, really I did. I told him that the ghost trapped in there was not someone you wanted let out. At all. Ever. Under any circumstances. But Vlad, being the hard headed, stubborn, asshole that he is, refuses to listen to me. The thermos in his sharp blue fingers is threatening beyond belief, and I know that this can only end one way.

Badly.

"Vlad, I'm serious. You don't want to let him out. I trapped him in there for a reason. He is a certifiable psychopath. Crazier than you, which is insanely hard to do." He rolls his eyes, twisting the lid once. A low hiss rattles out. But he continues, twisting the lid once more. There is one loud clink from inside the thermos, he is waiting.

"Daniel, I'm sure I can handle him. It would be nice to know who I'm dealing with, but since you refuse to tell me, I'll just have to find out myself, won't I?" I took one step back, then three, until I was nearly hiding behind a nearby overturned table. Vlad twisted the lid two more times, the clinking getting more erratic and frantic. As the lid popped off with an audible snap the thermos flew from his hands, rolling onto the floor as a plume of dark green and blue smoke swirled out of the blaringly open thermos.

Vlad's hands illuminated and he held a battle stance, prepared for whatever might materialize from the smoke. I don't care what he does; _nothing _will prepare Vlad for _him_. It's almost like watching a horror movie, honestly. It's the only thing I can compare it to. Watching him materialize from nowhere makes my skin crawl. His shadow is first, but his long cape shields most of his form. Then the depth fills out and you can make out a bit more detail. His flaming hair is merging strangely with the smoke as he forms. Each finger becomes distinctive as he forms and finally, as the smoke clears, his body completes itself before crumpling to the ground.

For a moment, I'm sure he's passed out. He's lying on the floor, completely motionless; the only thing moving is his flamboyant hair. I move forward tentatively and Vlad does the same, both of us kneeling in front of him at a (relatively) safe distance. One of his strikingly black eyebrows twitches on his forehead before they both bend downwards in annoyance. I feel my ghost powers in the very back recesses of my mind, muted by the fog and infection, twist and turn restlessly, feeling the presence of a manically evil spirit.

Dan Phantom.

His claw-like fingers curl as he closes one fist and reaches to his head, clutching his flaming scalp with a grimace. His other arm moves to prop him up, and he has yet to notice our presence. That is, until his red ghost sense curls out of his mouth. He coughs before snorting out a bit more red fog. He seems more annoyed by his ghost sense's presence than alerted.

"So what did it?" His voice breaks the harsh silence and Vlad and I both look at each other in confusion before returning our gazes to him. His eyes are still closed and he hasn't bothered to open them once since he'd been released, "I've been nagging you to let me out for two years, and now that I shut up, you let me out? What gives, Clockwork?" We don't answer. Vlad doesn't because he has absolutely no idea what Dan is talking about, but I don't answer in fear of him figuring that we were even here.

"No fucked up riddles today? Strange." He coughs again before putting his hands flat against the ground to push himself up. He lets out a grunt of exertion but manages, his eyes fluttering open as he settles into a seated position. We both freeze as Dan blinks repeatedly, his pupils resizing rapidly to adjust to the new light. His expression is blank for a moment or two and then he does something I don't expect.

He laughs. No, he doesn't laugh, he _cackles. _This cackle puts Vlad's evil laugh to shame, it's just so mind-blowingly evil sounding. As he comes down from his uproarious evil laughter tears are brimming in his luminescent blood red eyes from the force of his laugh.

"Oh this…" he shakes his head, "this is just _so perfect_." He's leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees as he watches us like a cat watches a frightened mouse. His grin is full, displaying his dangerous fangs. He's making me more than nervous, a twinge of fear twists in my stomach. My heart picks up pace as he pushes himself up into a standing position and we do the same, Vlad's eyebrows arching as he sees the 'DP' emblem displayed on Dan's chest.

"What did you hope to accomplish by freeing me?" Dan laughs again, but this one is sarcastic and taunting, and it's followed by a teasing sneer.

"We need you to break a barrier for us." Vlad speaks strongly and without hesitation, never lowering his ectoplasmically charged hands.

"That I can do. But will I do it?" He pretends to study his gloved fingers nonchalantly, "No." Told you… but I can't really regret freeing him, because what's he going to do? Hurt my family? Destroy civilization? He's about two years late.

"I don't know if you _know _who you're dealing with—" Vlad's red eyes illuminate to nearly a neon shade with agitation.

"Oh, believe me, I know." Dan grins. Vlad doesn't understand the irony, but I do, a little too much, "And to spare myself the longwinded explanation of what you want me to do, I'll ask him or rather, myself." Oh, shit. I'm supposed to talk now aren't I? I look to Vlad who seems utterly confused at the last part of Dan's statement. I'm on my own. My silence seems to amuse Dan, who has one arm crossed over his chest and the other propped on it at the elbow as he taps the side of his neck with his pointed fingers. Ok, he's enjoying this a little too much.

"We wouldn't be here unless you were our last resort."

"I don't doubt it." My eyes narrow at his interruption.

"_Anyway, _long story short, we need your Ghostly Wail." Dan almost looks insulted by my bluntness. His brows subtly arch and his smirk slips to an un-amused line.

"Why? If I remember correctly, you have that power, too." I can tell he stills holds a grudge about being defeated by that very power by the way his eyes gleam with deadly chagrin and by the way his lips curl into a feral grimace.

"Yeah, well…" I'm reluctant to tell him how virtually powerless I am, knowing that he'd be the first to take advantage of that, "I can't…exactly…use my powers right now." Dan's expression can only be described as a Vlad-centric grin. Behind the expression you can almost see a diabolical plan fit together in his mind.

"Is that so?" He moves forward, his gate so smooth and catlike that you wouldn't have guessed he'd been trapped in a thermos for nearly two and a half years, "Then you're completely defenseless, aren't you?" Vlad steps in then, stepping between me and an enemy (AGAIN).

"No, my powers are fully intact." Vlad snarls as he builds a fiery ball of pink ectoplasmic energy between his hands, sparks flying off in every direction from the sphere of massive energy.

"Oh, please." Dan moves like a snake, catching Vlad by the throat and throwing him aside into an oversized clock (nice decorating skills, Clockwork. Nothing can go wrong there) the glass shattering in an ear stinging display, "If you were smart, you would've kept me locked up." He slams me into a nearby wall. His left hand clutched my throat, closing in so tightly that my breath evades me and I squirm. The minute my eyes lock with his I feel something aggressively primal stir, pushing the fog and my ghost senses out of the way. This is something new. It's the infection itself, rearing its ugly head in a display of fierce, animalistic aggression.

Dan charges one hand, holding it up and pulling it back to deliver a punishing punch. But I catch his fist mid swing, the ectoplasm dying on his hand as he stares in shock. I bring his forearm forward in one smooth movement, sinking my serrated teeth into his pale blue flesh. The taste is foul to say the least. His ectoplasm is highly concentrated and pulsing with energy, making it taste like biting into a battery. On instinct, I release something that tastes sour and acerbic. I pause as I realize what it is. Venom. Dan panics, punching me in the stomach to get my jaw to come loose on his arm when he could've just made his arm intangible. Clearly, my attack was unexpected in every way.

Vlad makes his way out of the mess of broken clock, staring at the scene before him. Me, standing in a slightly crouched hunting position with ectoplasm oozing from my mouth, and Dan, standing in the opposite corner and clutching his right arm that's dripping with his own ectoplasm. The pain in my stomach is fierce, but I ignore it as I fall onto all fours and stalk forward in my custom hunting stance. I won't be the weaker one this time.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Dan yells at Vlad who grabs me by my vest, yanking me from my hunting pose and throwing me to the floor harshly. He delivers a punishing kick to my ribs to temporarily subdue me. I snarl monstrously, the ectoplasm in my throat causing it to sound distorted and demonic. Vlad then yanks me from the ground and tightly holds me, restricting me from attacking.

"He's infected." I writhe against his hold, growling and thrashing as I kick wildly. Why won't he let me go? One of my kicks slams into his knee and he stumbles a bit but refuses to loosen his hold. I let out a scream of hatred and annoyance.

"With what?" Dan stumbles backward, my venom starts to alter his vision and his pupils dilate wildly.

"A sort of zombie virus. It shouldn't affect full ghosts the way it affects halfa's and humans though." I'm so furiously pissed at Vlad for not letting me attack and Dan for being such a twisted bastard that I don't think to swallow any saliva and a thick, frothy, off-green foam starts to spill from my mouth. I think of how rabid I must look. The infection has never been this bad. It's never consumed me so fully.

All rationality and conscience are gone. Thrown out the window the minute Dan threatened me. And I can't reclaim it, not right now. But Vlad, being the evil mastermind that he is, uses this to his advantage. He creates a gooey ectoplasmic bond and ties my hands firmly behind my back. He drops me to the ground and I jump forward in an instant, straining against the bond with such pressure that I can feel it strain at its limits against my wrists.

Dan is feeling the full effects of my venom now, and it seems to be more of a heavy sedative than a virus to him. Which means he's a much easier target than he's ever been.

"What…what are you doing?" Dan slurs out drunkenly as he stumbles backwards and leans against a nearby wall as I slowly encroach on him. The only thing keeping me from pouncing being the damned bonds attached firmly at my wrists.

"I could let him go…" Vlad trails off, letting the ectoplasmic rope attached to my bonds slip just an inch. I can see in his frustrated red eyes that he's desperately trying to grasp his powers but I know the feeling. They're just out of his grasp, just beyond where he can reach. I grin, snapping at the air in front of me as a sort of warning (Beware of dog!) My vision seems to pulse with my frantic heartbeat, and I watch Dan as he struggles with all of his strength to remain conscious.

"Or, you could help us, and I'll knock him out and get his venom out of your system." The correct answer is clear even to my infection clouded mind. (I'll take help Plasmius and Fenton for two-hundred, Alex!)

"Deal."

My world goes black.

-x-

_There were survivors all right. Even you even counted people who periodically sacrificed each other to the Egyptian God of death, Osiris, in hopes for a cure as survivors. The first couple of days we were sure that these people were just weird and detached. That was until we overheard them talking about us as a possible sacrifice._

"_The boy's already half dead, this must anger Osiris." One of the leaders said._

"_Oh, yes. What about that girl he's with?"_

"_The witch?" _

"_Yes, that one. Osiris must be very displeased with her." _

"_Displeased with __**them. **__Have you noticed that the two sleep in the same bed every night? And they're unwed! I'm sure they aren't doing anything __**pure **__in there." It was confusing how the leaders tended to switch between Christian and Egyptian religion, and even more confusing how anti-sex they were. So much so, that once they'd caught us in a heated make out session and threatened to throw us to the undead hordes for our 'sinful and impure thoughts.' _

_Over the top much?_

_So we ran. We threw all of our stuff into a duffle bag and ran. Turns out that they're a lot faster than we'd anticipated. Even Sam, who held the speed to rival an Olympic runner was having trouble keeping ahead of them and the basement's ceiling was much too low for me to fly, so that was out. We ran, and ran, and ran out into the smoke filled night. We both knew that the smoke didn't smell like it originated from wood. _

_It smelled like singed flesh._

_-x-_

Holy plot twist, Batman! Jesus Christ, why did I throw Dan in there? Because he rocks my fangirl socks. XP That's why. He's so badass, and Vlad is getting a little too cozy. He needs TWO Danny's to fuck with his mind. Who loves sexy badasses? I DO! Major (Dan filled) thanks to **Fugitive of Gray, Inuyuke, Son of Wind, Hellbreaker, Jakkeirafan223, **and **kuroneko52; **your reviews make my day ^_^. And of course, thanks to **Satrinity**, who is still betaing my story. I'm so proud of her for putting up with me :)

In case you live under a rock, let me make a few Dan facts clear.

Dan is sort of the strange mix of Danny and Vlad's ghost half's. This is why he has the 'DP' emblem on his chest but has Vlad's blue skin and red eyes. If you don't know what he looks like, shame on you! (Flaming head of DOOM) D: Look it up!

Dan's personality is very snide and evil. He doesn't think about others sometimes ever, and usually always does things that are best for him, despite how it will affect others. But he's sexy, so he can get away with it ;)

He's part Vlad, so he's really a big schemer, very good with evil mastermind plots. But he is also part Danny, so somewhere (deep, deep, deep DEEP) down, he's still a little awkward with social interaction that ISN'T threatening. He has no friends :/

_**ALSO, **_yes zombies have venom! Don't be a hater DX I like the idea of zombies being kind of like snakes and having hollowed teeth that can inject venom. 'Cause snakes rule, you haters! DX Side note, Dan has a snake tongue and fangs *shiver*…


	7. Chapter 7

Who has no patience? MEH! Somewhat early update! :D

-x-

"_I've seen the future, I've known the past." _I stifle a moan of pain as I roll onto my stomach. In retrospect, swallowing the ectoplasm that had resulted from biting Dan hadn't been such a fantastic idea, _"So come now and join us and death will last." _I clutch my throbbing head, trying to tune out whoever was humming/singing, _"March now my children, let's rule with pride. There is no future, nowhere to hide."_

"Shut it, Vlad." I assume it's him trying to worsen my pounding headache. The voice sounds a little low for Vlad though.

"_There is no future, nowhere to hide." _I nearly scream as a snake tongue brushes my ear. Ew. Ew, ew, ewwwww… (EWWWWW!) I spin around on the torn couch, almost falling. Floating directly above me is the one and only, Dan Phantom. A defiant smirk on his face and an arrogant gleam in his eyes. And I have nowhere to go. Two armrests block me from sliding out above or below me, and the back of the couch keeps me from escaping that way while one of his arms is firmly planted on the side opposite to the back.

"V…" I stammer, slamming my head into the armrest, "Vlad!" He grabs me by my throat and pins me to the cushions. Oh. Fuck. I somehow manage to note that his breath smells strange, like vinegar and…vodka? Is he _**drunk?**_

"What, stranger danger?" Yeah, and I need an adult! I was fairly sure that I would never even attempt a crotch shot, but at the moment, I had no choice. Too bad he'd been anticipating it. He grabs my knee as I attempt to hit him, still holding my throat firmly. Well, there goes plan B. Now if only I had a plan C. He 'tsk's' me, his snake tongue looking strange as it writhes to make the sound.

"You know, I'm a narcissist…" I'm not proud to admit the fact that I let out quite an unmanly squeak as he attempts to nip at my nose. But I force my head even further back into the cushion, and his teeth make a hollow click as he bites air. He scowls deeply at my disobedience. I hear Vlad clear his throat (THANK YOU!), and I don't think I've ever been more relieved to see Vlad, "But I'm not _that _much of a narcissist." He licks my forehead, making me wince with another unmanly squeak. He lets out an aggravated breath (also reeking of vodka) at the interruption before jumping from the couch and phasing through the floor.

"Daniel?" I hesitantly open one eye that I'd closed in disgust when he'd licked me. (Again: EWWWWW.) "What did I just walk in on?" Only the most disturbing, mind-fuckingly twisted thing I'd ever experienced. How's your day going?

"I…I don't even know." I stammer as I reach up and wipe at my saliva coated forehead. Gross, it's fucking _green_, whose spit is _green_?

"Yes, well," He clears his throat awkwardly, "now that you are awake, I need you to drink this." He hands me a small cup, only the size of a large thimble. I look at him doubtfully, "It'll make you feel better. The ectoplasm you ingested isn't compatible with your stomach, but this will help." The promise of wiping out this pounding headache, sore throat and aching muscles was enough to make me willing to drink Dan spit (maybe not…) so drinking the black goo in the thimble was tolerable. I gag at the taste, swallowing deeply to try and get it all down.

"What was that stuff?" I lick the roof of my mouth as I try to rid my tongue of the foul liquid.

"Hm? Oh, it was just some ipecac syrup." That sounds oddly familiar, "I'd suggest sitting up." I sit up as I try to remember what ipecac does. I remembered my eighth grade science class. Something about…inducing vomiting? Oh, that bastard.

Within five minutes I felt like stabbing myself in the stomach instead of using that ipecac. I was in so much pain that I was actually using Vlad as a pillow. That's some serious pain. Apparently, the bones of the leg I'd (unknowingly) eaten weren't reacting too kindly to the Ipecac, or something like that; I wasn't really listening.

"I didn't anticipate this much resistance from your stomach." My head's resting on his knees but I can't bring myself to care. (Anyone have a knife?) I groan, running a hand through my hair.

"What do _you _want?" I growl as Dan stands in front of me, smirking down with his arms crossed over his chest. That smug son of a bitch. I nearly grin, though, as I see the bandage wrapped tightly around his right forearm. Payback's a bitch, isn't it? He grabs me by my hair, pulling me from Vlad's lap in one swift motion.

"Revenge." He whispers so quietly that only I can hear, and the vodka smell is faded but not completely gone, "And I'm going to get it any way I can. Normally, I'd just _kill_ you, but then I'd have to deal with the Cheesehead, and I'm not in the mood to commit two suicides, so I'll just have to get my revenge…a different way." I swallow dryly, as he grins at me. (My, what big teeth you have!) He drops me and my head hits Vlad's knee with a thud. I shudder to think what 'different' is to him, "Anyway, once Sleeping Beauty here feels better you should probably show me this barrier." Vlad simply nods in agreement.

But I can hardly notice. 'Different' has never been a more intimidating word. With someone as sick and twisted as Dan, different could mean a variety of things that could range from deadly to twisted to perverted—

In one sudden burst I sit up and empty my stomach on the dusty green and yellow floor, Vlad holding my hair back and Dan watching with a cruel grin.

At this point, I would like to make it very clear that the leg tasted nowhere near as good coming up as it had going down. Not at all. The bones are biting back, scraping the insides of my mouth and throat to shreds while Dan's undiluted ectoplasm stung the freshly acquired cuts fiercely. I look up to Dan with agitation, why the fuck is he grinning so much?

"What?" My voice is horse and I cough a few times, "Why are you so happy?"

"Call me a sadist." Dan shrugs, almost looking proud of that fact. Of all the people to spend the apocalypse with.

-x-

_"To the great power of Osiris, and to the wonderful glory that is Jesus, we send these sacrifices to thee." The cloaked religious psychos chanted in unison. I can't believe they'd caught us. Of all the times for my powers to fail, it just had to be now._

_"Why the fuck would __**Jesus **__want you to kill us?" Sam yells, thrashing against the tight rope bonds holding us to our separate cafeteria tables. Fire burns in a huge circle in the middle of a ring of blood stained cafeteria tables. Clearly this is meant to be our grave. _

_"Because you are sinners! The sin of premarital sex is unforgivable and your doomed souls shall burn along with your bodies!" I wish. No sex going on here lady, because there's some vengeful God plotting against me getting some._

_"Doesn't murder trump sex on the sin scale?" Sam replies, sounding more annoyed than scared. Typical Sam. _

_"I'd also like to point out that there's no sex going on here." I add, almost to myself but I'm surprised at how loud it came out._

_"Don't sound so happy about it, Danny." Sam sarcastically retorts._

_"Well, it's true!" _

_"You're the one that always stops us! No, Sam, you'll get pregnant!" She yells back, making her voice an octave deeper when she summarizes my protests. I stare in shock at where this is going when she winks. Ah, this is part of a plan. _

_"So, what, that's an unreasonable fear?" I reply with false burning rage. The religious freaks are confused now, looking at each of us with suspicion and confusion as we (fake) argue. _

_"It is when you blame me. It's never my fault!" _

_"You're the one that's constantly seducing me!" The religious freaks are more interested now. Typical women, treating our false argument like a soap opera._

_"Don't blame me for your teen boy hormones, it's not my fault that I can't bend over without you getting a hard on." I nearly choke on air, a blush coloring my entire face. This argument's supposed to be fake right? "Can you let me go so I can stab him?" And the plan becomes clear. She's going to take the knife one of the religious freaks has, and cut the ropes. Clever. They seem skeptical though, and are hesitant with the knife. _

_"Come on, he's the sex crazed one between the two of us. Let me kill him." I have to remind myself that she doesn't mean anything she's saying. Even if it __**is **__kind of true. Her plan works and she's cut free and handed the knife. She walks over to me, the dagger looking obscenely dangerous in her slender fingers. She leans forward, positioning the dagger only an inch from my throat. _

_"On the count of three, I'll cut you free and we run through those broken windows back there." She whispers and nods toward a set of shattered windows on the back wall. In one quick movement she moves the knife to the bond around my right wrist and cuts it. _

_"One." She slits the bond on my left wrist._

_"Two." She slits the bonds on my ankles._

_"Run!" She throws the blade blindly back at the religious nuts and I hear a scream from the gaggle of women. As we burst through the school doors I look over at her. She's quietly laughing. She looks over at me._

_"Do you really get a hard on when I bend over?" _

-x-

"You're kidding me, right?" I stare in disbelief at Dan as he blasts zombies to bits. This wouldn't be so unbelievable if these zombies had shown up and were threatening us. No, what Dan is doing is bringing the zombies from nearby areas so he can blow them away in one collective blast because he, quote, "Likes the way they splatter", unquote. Even Vlad's having a hard time believing this.

"You know, Daniel, you still haven't explained to me how you know him." Vlad asks, his gaze never breaking from Dan's rampage on the undead. What are we supposed to do? Stop him? It's not like he's doing any harm. If anything, this is probably one of the few times he's ever done something beneficial to humanity.

"You don't want to know."

"Daniel—"

"You _**don't **_want to know." The ground shakes violently as Dan obliterates thirty Fleshwalkers with one huge ball of green ectoplasmic energy and he laughs with manic glee. At least we know we're safe from zombies.

"Fine. You ripped out _my _ghost half, but then my ghost half ripped out _your _ghost half, and then my ghost half merged with yours…and then Dan." Said maniac grins wildly like a kid high on Pixie Stixs. It's almost amusing to watch.

"Wait…what?" The look on his face is almost comical.

"Say hello to Fruitloop the second!" I dramatically wave in Dan's direction, and he demonstrates my point perfectly by swooping down, grabbing a zombie by its shoulders, turning it partially intangible and jamming it into another like a child trying to shove the square block into a circle hole. The deformed zombie's bodies, now connected like the most severe of Siamese twins, stumbles around for a moment before collapsing. Apparently, this is very fun to Dan, who laughs like he's having the time of his life. Maybe he is.

"That would explain quite a bit," Vlad takes all the fun out of this moment of revelation with his calmness, "My skin and eyes, your hair color and costume. But he just seems a little too…"

"Demented? Sick? Twisted? Sadistic? The creepiest fuck to walk the earth?"

"Yes, he seems a bit too much of those things. Even _I _wouldn't get that much enjoyment from…that." Vlad nods to Dan's current activity, which happens to be lighting the zombies on fire. But not with regular red fire, his is a flamboyant white, almost exactly like his hair. He seems to be finding quite a bit of enjoyment (and hopefully nothing else) from watching the zombies screech and flail as they slowly burned. I winced, knowing I was only a few steps off from being one of those things.

"That's Dan for you. Creepy, insane, Fruitloop—"

"Pedophiliac?"

"That too apparently," I shudder, subconsciously wiping at my forehead even those his spit is long gone, "But I think he was drunk."

"Likely, considering he was in so much pain from your venom that I had to give him _something _to subdue him." Ah, so it was _his _fault. I wonder if Dan always becomes somewhat pedophiliac when drunk. If so, I knew where I wasn't going to be when he gets a hold of the demon drink (an ironic name considering who was drinking it.) I'm pulled from my revere as Dan's fire tricks accidentally light a large patch dry grass on fire.

"Are you done yet?" He's spent nearly an entire hour blasting away zombies outside of Vlad's mansion; you'd think he'd get bored. Not him. Not Dan. He glares at me, lowering himself to the ground. As he stands directly in front of me I realize he still stands nearly half a foot taller than me. Like he _needs _to look any more intimidating.

"Why, are you done gossiping about me?" Dan leans forward, causing me to take a step back. But Dan follows, smirking as he closes the space with one medium sized step.

"Yes! Now, you're coming with us!" I grab Dan's cape, spinning him around in one quick motion and yanking it so hard that he falls to the ground with a loud thud and a sound of surprise. I nearly laugh at both of their expressions. Dan looks utterly shocked and insulted, while Vlad is just confused. The only problem now would be that I have absolutely no idea what to do with him now. So, I'm stuck holding onto Dan's cape as I stand completely still, having no idea where the Hell I should go from here.

Vlad puts his hand to his forehead in a universal gesture of "What the fuck were you _thinking_?" That's the thing. I wasn't.

"Where to?" Dan looks back from his position on the floor with a mocking grin, "Even when you're trying to be tough, you end up looking stupid." He laughs, yanking his cape from my grip as he stands, "Leave it to the big boys, little kid." _LITTLE KID?_ All the shit I've been through, and he has the _nerve _to calm me a _little kid_? I snarl, the sound somewhat buried in the back of my throat but still commanding none the less. Vlad doesn't even attempt to step in as I shoot forward, my feral side springing to life as I grab his cape again and pull it over his head. I use this rare moment of weakness to deliver a punch to his stomach.

Or at least, I try to. He catches my fist, which unfortunately happens to be my left hand, and twists it. No, he doesn't just twist it; he jerks it forward and holds my elbow while he harshly jerks the skin in opposite directions. It's like an Indian burn from Hell. But I don't think he was expecting the skin to slide off in his hands. It doesn't hurt, so I don't even realize what happens until Dan throws his cape back over his shoulders and stares in disgusted shock at his blood and zombie goo soaked hands.

I guess I won't need bandaging anymore.

I stare at my left arm in mute horror. I'm so terrified I can't even scream. The skin…it's just gone, ripped off like it was made of wet toilet paper. The bone is clearly visible, but not just one bone. All the way up to my elbow the bones are entirely visible, and I flex each skeletal finger in horrified wonder. I can't even explain how I can still move my fingers without any muscles around them, but I can't help feeling a little grateful that I can still move it at all. I feel like it should be hurting though. Maybe it's just a gut instinct, but seeing your flesh completely torn from the bone should probably at least register as uncomfortable.

But it feels almost _pleasant. _Like a pressure I didn't know existed had been relieved. I run my good hand over the bone, almost like I'm testing if what I'm seeing is even real. It stand firm and I shake it back and forth, the bones in my wrist clicking like marbles being thrown against each other.

"Holy shit…" Dan murmurs as he stares at my hand and Vlad says one of his pastry expletives. "Cool! I wasn't even trying!" Vlad gets a green tint to his off blue face, causing his complexion to change to a strange blue-green color. They both seem shocked that I'm not screaming (well, Dan doesn't _really _care, he's too busy thinking about how awesome he thinks he is), but what I do next just dumbfounds them.

I laugh. Its starts off as a chuckle, barely even audible before it builds to a back shaking guffaw.

"Why is he laughing? I just ripped off his arm. I've ripped off a lot of people's limbs, and they _never _react like that."

"I think he's in shock."

I nod in agreement, unable to speak around my laughter.

-x-

"_I'd get that, but I don't want to bend over in front of you. We don't know __**what **__could happen." Sam smirks as we unload boxes of canned food from a delivery truck tipped over on the side of the road. I roll my eyes, trying not to react to her comment, "You know, I always thought a guy being that horny was a joke." She says as she sits on a crate and munches on an energy bar. _

"_What have I ever done to make you think that was a joke?" I ask as I sit next to her and steal her energy bar. I only manage to take one bite before she slaps it out of my hand and takes it back. The chocolate on the bar smudges on her and I wouldn't be male if I didn't watch her lick her fingers with enthusiasm. _

"_You're kidding me right? There's no way __**that **__was hot." I laugh._

"_You would be surprised." _

"_Ok, what can I do that __**isn't **__hot?" I have yet to think of anything… a Fleshwalker than crashes through a pile of boxes behind us, and Sam jumps up first, grabbing a heavy, completely wooden, crate and bashes it over its head. A shower of zombie goo rains on her from its imploded head. She turns to me, her teeth bared._

"_Was that hot?" _

"_Yep, gross, but hot." _

"_Why?"_

"_I have no idea." _

"_So you don't get it, you just go with it?" She asks as she settles next to me on the crate. I shrug as I finish off the shared energy bar._

"_I was pretty sure that's how lust works." She nods, taking another energy bar from the crate beneath us, "Sort of a blind attraction thing." _

"_I thought that's how the 1 to 10 rating scale of hotness works." I laugh, remembering how many times Tucker and I had sat at the mall and judged girls from 1 to 10. Ten being foreign supermodel and one being jabba the hut and the creature from Jones lake's love child. _

"_Ah, the 1 to 10 scale. You never liked it, if I remember correctly." She nods as she swallows a mouthful of energy bar. _

"_You remember correctly, you always used it to judge __**Paulina.**__" I stare at her in amazement. A girl's jealousy is a __**powerful **__thing. _

"_Yeah, so what? She was…a seven. That just makes her a model…from Alabama." Sam almost laughs before she shoves her remaining energy bar into my mouth._

"_You're such a liar, I heard you and Tucker call her a ten…a lot." I take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look into my eyes. _

"_Listen, I don't care what number she was, ten or ten-thousand; she's probably a zombie happy meal by now. Happy?" _

"_No, but that'll do."_

-x-

"Can you move it?"

"Yes."

"Can you feel things with it?"

"No."

"Is it painful?"

"No."

"Are you fucking crazy?"

"Probably."

"Dan, stay out of this!" Vlad yells. I'd refused to answer any questions until Vlad flew me back to the Hummer directly outside of the dome (I didn't unleash the pyscho for nothing, after all.) Once we'd gotten there, Vlad had sat me on the hood of the car and said that I wasn't leaving until I answered his questions. (You're not leaving this table until you eat your vegetables, young man!)

"Let's go already; I'm fine…just minus some of an arm." I wave my now skeletal hand, trying not to look at it. It's creepy to see this thing attached to me but not feel it. But at least it's not quite as gruesome looking as the infected skin had been, so in a weird (weird, weeeeiirrrddd, WEIRD) way, this is kind of a step up.

"Go where? I don't see any barrier of any kind." Dan says as he stands on my right side, which I take notice is opposite of my skeletal hand. I wonder if it creeps him out as much as it does me. (Sweet!)

"It's somewhere around he—" I run face first into the invisible dome, and it zaps me harshly. Don't I feel smart?

"An _invisible _barrier? That's new." I wonder how they simulate the shift in light as the sun begins to set behind us, "And let me guess, ghost proof?"

"Yep." I answer.

"Figures." Dan places one hand hesitantly on the invisible glass, and the zapping of it reacting to his skin is loud, "What are they guarding? It looks like more dirt over there."

"It's disguised. There's a city on the other side, or there should be. We aren't really sure what to expect." Dan grins and Vlad rolls his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose, "No, you can't destroy it."

"What's in it for me then? You already got the little idiot's venom out of my system." I growl but otherwise ignore his comment. I have more important matters to attend to. Like Sam.

"You get to destroy something, which you seem to enjoy, isn't that enough?" It must be, because Dan floats upward and within seconds I clamp my hands over my ears (doesn't work quite as well as I'd hoped, considering one hand has no flesh to cover my ear anymore) to shield myself from the awesome power that is the Ghostly Wail.

The invisibility fell first. The solid blue of the dome appeared and shimmered before getting large cracks in its surface. The cracks soon connect and shortly afterwards a shower of glass falls onto hard packed dirt. I stare.

No wonder I didn't see anything behind the guards before. Because there wasn't anything to see.

Nothings there.

-x-

_I'd like to say I have an iron will. I'd like to say that my self-control is something to be marveled at. I'd like to say that I laugh at the face of temptation. I would __**like **__to say these things, but these are all lies. _

_I do have a will about as tough as toilet paper. I do know that my self control is something to be laughed at. I do crumble at the face of temptation. Long story short, I am weak. How many times had I stopped myself from doing this very thing? How many times had I fought with myself over this and won? That didn't matter now, considering I'd done it. _

_And we all know what I mean by 'it'. I can tell you right now, that 'it' doesn't mean I took Sam out for ice cream (I scream, maybe…) but Sam doesn't seem to have a problem with it. No at all. _

"_Danny, stop acting like you raped me. Everything's __**fine**__." My internal debate must have shown up on my face. I look down at her, her hair sticking up in odd directions and her lips are slightly swollen. Then my eyes drift to her shoulder. _

_My jaw tightens. _

_Her shoulder has a large, hand shaped, burn mark (exactly my size) and it's ringed with dark bruises of all colors. I feel sick. I place my hand on the burn, chilling it with my ice powers. She lets out a sigh of relief as she buries herself deeper into my bare chest. She's trying to hide the mark from me, I can tell by the way she's awkwardly bending her shoulder into the crook of my arm. _

"_Why didn't you tell me I was hurting you?" I growl into her hair. I'd honestly had no idea I was even using my powers, but it made sense considering my powers almost always corresponded with my emotional state. I should've known intense lust would draw something dangerous out. And I'd been in my human form the entire time. I couldn't imagine what I would've done to her if I'd been in my ghost form. _

_Would I have broken her bones? Crushed her throat? Froze her blood? I press one hand directly over her heart, feeling it pulse beneath my palm. To lose that feeling would be nothing short of criminal. _

_No._

_This __**can't **__happen again._

-x-

I stand corrected. There is something on the other side of the dome. A hole. It's not that big, and the walls of it are only about as wide as your average school bus. Over the entrance is a solid steel door, and a hefty lock is placed on it to keep it securely fastened. No problem for Dan the wonder criminal though. He charges his hand with an ectoplasmic blast and disintegrates the lock with one hard grip.

"You can leave you know." It's more of a hope than a suggestion. I don't want him anywhere near other people. Too bad Dan figures that out.

"I'll destroy zombies later, and I'll do this now. Besides, I'm curious to why you wanted to get in here so badly." I refuse to tell him that Sam is here, knowing that Dan is after revenge tells me that he'll destroy her if he knows she's around. I clutch my fists in rage, my left (now skeletal) hand making a strange clacking sound as the fingers connect with the bones in my palm. I won't let him ruin this for me.

"You just can't leave me alone, can you?" I growl at him and Dan's mouth turns up into a grin as he squares his shoulders. He's ready for a fight. So am I.

"No, no I can't. As long as I'm around, you are _never _alone." He grabs me by the front of my shirt, lifting me nearly half a foot of the ground. I snarl and spit in his face, making sure to add a good amount of venom for a little extra sting. Dan roars in rage, rubbing at his eyes before clenching a fist to punch me with.

"Both of you stop acting like children!" Vlad suddenly yells, standing between us, "You!" He points at a shocked Dan with one glowing fist, "Are 26 years old! Act your age! And you!" He points at me now, "Are 16 years old! Respect your elders and be grateful! He may be a psychopath, but he has helped us!" We're both completely silent for a moment, the only sound being Vlad's annoyed growling. Dan and I glare at each other.

"Apologize so we can move on." Vlad snarls, holding his energy charged fists at his sides. We both know he's fully prepared to use them.

"I _don't _apologize. Especially not to _him_." Dan crosses his arms over his chest and turns his back to us. Oh, yeah, real mature.

"How about you?" Vlad turned to me.

"He started it!" Ok, so maybe I'm not that mature either. Sue me. I cross my arms as well, also turning my back from them. Vlad snaps in an instantaneous moment of fury. He grabs both of us by our ears like misbehaving children and drags us to the gaping hole in the ground that might or might not lead to a survivor colony.

"I think it's time the two of you have a _time out._ If you're going to act like children, I'm going to treat you like children." He shoves us both forward and we fall straight down the hole, watching the stairs fly by us in an instant. We fall too quickly for Dan to even think about flying and we end up landing in a graceless heap on a dirt floor. I'm glad we've landed the way we did, because Dan took most of the beating that resulted from the fall.

The cloud of dust that had risen around us settles as Vlad lands beside us in a much lither fashion. He seems pretty smug as he helps me up but I ignore him and try to see through the heavy darkness. As Dan stands his hair brightens the small area enough to see a door leading who knows where. Luckily, this door isn't locked and I grab the sturdy steel handle with my skeletal hand, trying to get used to using things when I can't feel them.

It's now or never.

I pull open the door, and it creeks ominously loud. On the other side can only be what's described as an apocalyptic utopia. People roam the streets as if they don't live in constant fear (maybe they don't?) of a zombie attack. A market is roaring with commotion of a happy crowd, and children scream with glee as they play tag in abandoned mine carts. Ragtag huts have been devised to look almost exactly like small houses, and mothers call to their children as they hang wet laundry on strings. And throughout it all, streetlights and lanterns hang above, illuminating everything with a glow that make it all look like a cheerily morbid painting.

It's pretty, in a strange way.

"Wow…" It's all I can say as I stare at the shabby community before me. A small boy, five at the most, runs into my leg and his laughter dies almost immediately as he stares up at me.

"Mommy, mommy! Lookit' them!" A crowd soon starts to gather, but they aren't paying attention to the Dracula look alike (Vlad) or the walking bonfire (Dan). They are all staring at me. Or, more accurately, my arm. It's admittedly a sight to behold, and I hold the bones of my arm in my right hand as I take a hesitant step back. This doesn't look good. Not at all.

"He's infected!"

"How did they get past the shield?"

"He's one of them, look at him!"

A few members of the crowd run off into a nearby tunnel.

"Everything's fine, I swear! I'm not going to eat anyone." I attempt reason, hoping against hope that these people are a little more understanding than the guards of the dome. Not likely if you consider the rope they loop around me like I'm a cow being led to slaughter. If it makes them happy, fine. I look back to Dan and Vlad. Dan looks like he's just heard, quite possibly, the funniest joke in the history of ever while Vlad stands conflicted. I see them exactly as he does.

These survivors are unstable. One false move and we could both have bullets in our backs. (Not that Dan would worry about that, it's not like he'd even think about helping me without something in it for him.) So we let them have their way. They let Vlad and Dan walk without being roped (they tried to rope Dan, but it's easy to guess what happened there) as they lead us all down the same tunnel a few members of the crowd had disappeared into earlier. Where are they taking us? I can't say. But I am curious to know…

"I'm not going to eat anyone, I swear!" Dan mocks me as he walks alongside me, "Smooth, you jackass. Who would believe _you_?" I'm tempted to lash out at him again, but the constant suspicious looks of the survivors tells me that anything remotely hostile will be grounds for execution. I'm not taking any chances.

Two steel doors soon stand in front of us and they open theatrically (I almost expect fanfare) as a figure steps out. I want to collapse right then and there as I stare at the person before me. For a few moments, we lock eyes but I don't see anything there. No recognition. Not even a flicker.

"Kill them."

These are the two words I'd _never _thought I'd hear. At least, not from Sam.

-x-

Are you happy now? I wrote borderline slash for you people! I'd like to make it clear that Dan is not gay (or pedophiliac), he just knows what messes with Danny's head. And pedophilia tends to make Danny rather…ahem…uncomfortable. And how do you like that? Danny actually _got _some. LE GASP! UNTHINKABLE! I was really trying to make the pairings a little more diverse in this story, since it seems I'm pretty roped into Sam/Danny at this point. So I put some slash for those of you who like it, even though it isn't REAL slash, it's just a tipsy Dan messing with a painfully sober Danny. :P

Btw, have any of you heard of Mozenrath? He's a kickass sorcerer from the Aladdin cartoons from the….90's? He uses a magical gauntlet to harness his powers, and is a powerful villain that reminds me of Dan. A lot. Anyway, the reason I brought him up is because the use of his gauntlet has eaten away at his hand, thus giving him an entirely skeletal hand up to his elbow, which is where I got the idea for Danny's skin being ripped off. He's great, and pretty much the only reason I ever watched the Aladdin TV show (animation was a little sketchy…) You should check him out - http:/ disneyvillains. /wiki/ Mozenrath

That nifty little song that Dan was singing in the beginning is called _**"(We are the) Doomed" by Cianide. **_Personally, I think that the song fits Dan a little TOO well…

Also, I was PMing Inuyuke, and we were talking about Vlad's parenting skills, spawning this snippet:

Dan: Whatever, Cheesehead, can I just _kill _him now?

Vlad: NO! D:

Dan: Damn…can I mess with him?  
>Vlad:…fine.<p>

Dan: :D

Lol, I'm lame :P I'm sorry this one was shorter (by like 1,000 words :/) than the

past two chapters, but those are hard to edit, and take a lot of time (that I didn't have this week) to write. SO maybe next time? And WHHAAAUUT? Sam wants to execute Danny? WHI?

Well, thanks to Dark Dan, **Son of Wind, **Rogue Alice, **Inuyuke, Fugitive of Gray, Hellbreaker, **and **Jakkeriafan223 **for their reviews. I hope I haven't scared you all off with my semi slash. I was in a weird mood when I wrote it :P


	8. Chapter 8

Holy double chapter, Batman! Seriously you guys -_- This is 9,100+ words that sprawled over at total of FIFTEEN pages on word, single spaced, twelve point font. My brain, it is fried _

-x-

Shocked is too much of an understatement. Dumbfounded is a little better, but I'm fairly sure the English language doesn't have a word to describe how I feel. Aside from the fact that Sam has ordered me to _death_, she also looks nothing like she did before. She looks unapproachable, like if you tried to touch her you were doing the equivalent of trying to hug Hitler. Everything about her screamed "touch me and you die." Her stance, her outfit, her eyes and most importantly, the revolver that looked like something from a Clint Eastwood western, all of it seemed like she would turn on you in a second.

Her violet eyes seem darker, and a new scar slashes just beneath her right eye. Somewhere deep in those eyes, I'm sure I see the warmth that I'd been so familiar with. Her lips are pressed together in an aggravated line, and as I look at her it seems almost unthinkable that those lips has ever turned up into a smile, or kissed me. The outfit she wears is pretty much the only thing that I recognize as purely Sam. It's completely black, consisting of a pair of black cargo pants, a worn purple top and dusty black combat boots. More scars disappear beneath her shirt. I don't recognize any of them.

"Sam…wh—"

"Let's hear this little nugget of wisdom, shall we?" Dan interrupts and I snarl, sending a harsh glare his way.

"I know we didn't exactly _depart _on the most wonderful of circumstances, but it wasn't my fault! Something was wrong with me! If you would let me go I could explain it to you! You don't really want to kill me, do you?" I attempt to move forward, but the rope securely fastened around my chest holds me back. I look back at the three men holding the rope with a low growl and they all shrink back a bit in fear.

"Yes," She steps walks forward now, her boots raising small clouds of dust and her revolver swings on her pinky casually, "I've come too far for you to infect these people." She pulls the hammer on the revolver back with a deafening click. Vlad almost immediately jumps to attention, shooting forward but is intercepted and tackled to the ground. I hear him scream of anger before it's cut short and I see that they've knocked him out with a nearby rock. Two black rings quickly transform him back into his human form.

Sam looks back to me and presses the barrel of the gun to my temple and my heart skips a beat before tripling in speed. (Of course, Dan is too busy enjoying my suffering to try and save me.) I try to stumble backwards, but one of the men from the crowd jumps forward and presses his own gun to the bottom of my back. I swallow dryly. Her eyes search mine and I can see my own reflection in her gaze. My hair has gone crazy again, a few strands sticking straight up and some chunks are stained bright green with Dan's ectoplasm. My own supernaturally shining yellow eyes stare back in my reflection, and the bags beneath my eyes accentuate the yellow to an almost impossibly bright color.

With the gun still pressed to my temple, her other hand reaches around me and clasps the back of my head, forcing me forward until our lips collide. The entire crowd around us protests, but I can't find it in myself to notice. If my arms weren't pinned to my sides by the rope I would've held her in the exact same way I had before. My eyes slowly close as I disregard all of the sounds around me and focus on her. I could've been blind, or stupid, but I would still know that this was Sam just by the way she kissed. I was relieved that it hadn't changed. For the most part at least.

The feeling behind this kiss was nowhere near the emotions that usually went behind Sam's kiss. Her usual included love, passion, and happiness. But this one was so forceful and aggravated that I wasn't even sure how to label it. It could only be described as blinding rage bundled into a kiss. And then, disaster. She must have a cut in her mouth because I can taste blood faintly. Now I'm being pushy and aggressive, and a low snarl rattles through my throat as I push my jaw forward to bite her lower lip.

She seems to have been expecting it and quickly pulls away as she twirls the gun expertly and slams the handles of the revolver into my head. As I crumple to the floor I realize that this must have been a test. And I failed miserably. My own blood trickles down from my temple and the smell blinds all my rationality as drops of blood make their way to my nose and lips. I flex my arms and the rope snaps as if it were made of floss. The crowd lets out a collective scream as I spring forward towards the nearest source of fresh blood that isn't myself. Sam.

She aims her gun in less than an instant. The bullet that fires from it would have gone straight through my forehead if Dan hadn't tackled me to the ground at the very last moment.

"You fucking owe me, you know that?" But I thrash in his hold as he stands and his iron grip is unmoving as I squirm. The blood coming from the gash on my head pours down in torrents now, and I lick at my lips hastily. But I want more. I want something to sink my teeth into. A hollow ache rings in my mouth as my venom waits impatiently to be released into someone. Sam's finger hesitates on the trigger before she lets out a sigh of aggravation before she lowers the gun and slowly lets the hammer fall dormant. She tucks the revolver into the belt of her cargo pants.

"I thought I was done with this shit." She sighs as she runs her hands through her shoulder length raven hair, "You just had to come back, didn't you?" She's standing tantalizingly close, and I strain against Dan's unbreakable hold as I snap at the air in front of me. She reaches into her back pocket with a roll of her amethyst eyes and retrieves a rag. She jerks my head in one direction as she wipes at the blood pouring from my temple. Only she would be so bold.

But it seems to be working, because the more blood she wipes away, the clearer my head becomes. And by the time she's wiping at my mouth I'm panting like an overheated dog, feeling totally whipped.

"Is your temper tantrum over?" Dan taunts and I kick him hard in the knee. I frown; I was aiming higher than that. Vlad groans as he awakens, rubbing his head sorely as he sits up.

"I've got to give it to you Danny; you never fail to surprise me. But the nerve you have showing up here takes the cake." She crosses her arms over her chest and I look at her apologetically, "God, I hate you Danny." I grin, remembering a certain confession of love that had started with that very line all that time ago.

"Because I'm clueless, aggressive, idiotic, annoying and childish?" She covers her mouth as she vainly tries to hide her smile. And it's like we're back to the way things used to be, if only for a moment.

"Yuck, get a room you two." Dan decides to remind me that I'm still in his grip and squeezes me tighter. He seems to underestimate his strength, because I can almost feel my ribs bend. Vlad seems unsteady as he studies the scene before him. He puts his palm to his forehead.

"_Again_?"

-x-

_I'm fairly sure something is wrong with me. Scratch that, I'm one hundred percent sure that something is wrong with me. But I won't let Sam know that. I can't let her know. She'll worry too much. But whatever's wrong with me, it's serious. My ghost form is slowly getting weaker, and it takes three times the effort it did before just to do something as simple as turning intangible. _

"_Danny?" Sam waves a hand in front of my face. I immediately push myself up from the floor. How had I ended up there? I don't know, "What…what were you doing on the floor?"_

"_It doesn't matter." I say shortly. Did I mention that I've become increasingly irritable? Anger, jealously and arrogance flashes come and go and I can't help but give into them. It's terrifying to feel so out of control of myself, "Not like __**you **__would care." A flash of white hot jealousy flows through me. What am I jealous of? Absolutely no fucking idea._

"_Excuse me?" I feel awful for subjecting Sam to my mood swings, but I can't help it. As if I'm not in control of my own mouth a string of words that I will eternally regret spew forward._

"_You don't __**really **__care. You can't. Not you. Not Sam…" For some reason I grin (Like I said, something is SERIOUSLY wrong with me) as tears of anger brim in her eyes._

"_Not __**care**__? I'm the __**one **__person who stuck with you and you think I don't __**care**__?" She stalks forward, but unlike me, her anger is well deserved. I'm awful. I don't deserve her kindness, let alone her anger. If only I'd said that instead of what comes next._

"_Why should you? Oh that's right! You pretend to care so I'll protect you, because you can't do it yourself." I don't even recognize myself, and realize that this is a bad flash of arrogance. I have absolutely no control. And I desperately want to stop. I want to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. But I can't do that. I seriously can't. As the next events unfold, it's like I'm watching a movie. Unable to stop or change any of the things I'm seeing. (Don't go into the basement! The monster is there you, you fool!)_

"_I don't know what's gotten into you, Danny, but I am not going to deal with it." She stands barely a foot from me and my senses are so on edge that I can hear her rapidly beating heart. Her teeth grind together as I stare at her silently, internally having the mental war of the century._

"_What's gotten into me?" I laugh, but it's not my normal laugh, it sounds dark and foreboding, "Reason has gotten into me Sam. Maybe, you should invest in some yourself considering you don't seem to have any." Her eyes darken suddenly and she reels her hand back quickly to smack me across the face. I quickly catch her wrist as it flies at me, and grab the other, pinning her to the wall behind us. No…I shouldn't be saying I. This isn't me. This is a stranger. An awful, terrible stranger._

"_Danny!" She twists and writhes against my (no. Not me. __**His**__) hold, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" It's not me, Sam! I can't say those words though, I can't force them through my lips. _

"_Listen, Samantha," Her eyes narrow at the use of her full name, ohhh shhiittt, "I don't need you. You need me. Let's make that little factoid __**very **__clear, got it?" He holds her wrists in one and tilts her chin up and down to mimic an agreeing nod. This can't be happening._

"_You can't be Danny!" She yells, thrashing out with her legs. But he floats and turns his legs intangible, her kicks sailing through open air. He creates ectoplasmic bonds to tie her legs together. _

"_Oh, I am… I just think you don't know me quite as well as you __**thought **__you did."_

-x-

"So this happens…often? He's just suddenly a zombie and then he's back to normal?" She won't look at me. I feel terrible. Awful. Like a rat. No, worse than a rat. I feel like a flea on a rat. Never mind, I'm not even good enough to be a flee I'm just such a failure at life.

"I'm afraid so. I've only been able to freeze the infection at its current state, which means it claims half his brain." Vlad replies. After my display of aggression and bloodlust the survivors don't trust me to stay unsupervised 'upstairs' as they call it. I still didn't quite get the setup of this place. As far I could tell, they have four different levels. The first, which is the outside world (and used to have a dome over it), is called the Hatch. When they talk about the Hatch, they mean the surface. Second is the Forum. That's where the Hatch lets out into the disheveled town. But that was only a third of the survivors and was mainly only used for businesses and service centers that people bartered goods for. The only people that live there are the business owners. Third, and most importantly, is the Outpost. This is where all the survivors live and is located directly beneath the Forum. I haven't personally seen it though, because I'm not trusted enough to go there.

Where we're headed is the bottom and last layer of their colony. This is referred to as the Vault. Apparently, it's the colony's form of a jail. Because as the manual elevator doors open I can see three different hallways merging from where the elevator lets out, and each of them has rows of cells on each side. Three guards sit at a battered table and are playing a game of poker. They look up at me, and their eyes immediately dart to my arm. I clutch it self consciously.

"Stand down, it's complicated. But he will be staying down here for some time until we can stabilize his condition." My brows shoot skyward. I just thought we'd been on a tour, not that I was going to be locked away. But I suppose it's fitting. If she's smart she'll lock me up and throw away the key. As we walk down the third hallway on the right I can see that they already have a few occupants. Most of them are men, but it's easy to see why they're here. They look fucking terrifying. But as I walk by, they all stare and a few look frightened of me. I suppose it's better to assert myself now, and I decide on letting out a low snarl when an inmate locks gazes with me. (Don't drop the soap, mother fucker!)

Vlad looks obscenely uncomfortable, walking directly in the center of the hallway to stay well out of the inmates reaching range while Dan does the opposite. He walks only inches from the bars and teases them with snide remarks, laughing and jumping out of the way when an inmate snaps and reaches for him. The crazy bastard. We make it to the last cell on the right which looks only slightly different. This one has a thick rope of steel around its borders. A ghost shield, which I'm guessing keeps ghosts in instead of keeping them out. She flicks the switch and a solid green shield covers the entirety of the cells front, tinting the steel bars a strange green.

"That's not necessary." Vlad says, "Daniel's ghost powers aren't working right now. He couldn't phase out of his cell even if he wanted to." If? Yeah, because I want to live in a cell. (Sarcasm!) Sam looks back at me and I wave awkwardly with my left hand, forgetting its skeletal state for a moment before shoving it behind my back. I am just made of fail today.

"It's purely precautionary." She watches me the way you watch a rabid dog on the other side of a weak chain link fence. Distrustfully. Precautionary my ass. I look to Vlad who returns with a sorry gaze. Meanwhile, Dan is being as unhelpful as can be, toying with a particularly reactive inmate. I roll my eyes as I step through the ghost shield, the tingle of its energy causing a familiar itch as my buried ghost form writhes at the sensation. I hear the bars clang shut behind me and as they leave I sit on the cot that's supposed to be my bed. I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself.

It's cold, and there isn't any blanket or anything else to keep me warm, so I stay curled in on myself. As the minutes pass I notice that the three inmates across the hallway that can see me have been continuously staring at me and whispering among themselves. I glare and growl, tempted to give them a show just to distract myself from my own self-hatred. But I ignore them; lying down on my cot and turning so my back is facing them.

For a few moments I feel like they'll never come back. They're just going to leave me here. To wither away and rot. I find that it's preferred. There's no need to keep me alive. What kind of life will I live? Unable to stay sane in the presence of my own blood? Unable to kiss Sam without wanting to eat her? Unable to look at myself in the mirror and recognize me? As something salty enters from the corner of my mouth I realize that I'd been crying.

More like silently sobbing.

-x-

_It's…its worse. Coherent thought, failing. Whatever's wrong with me, it's taking over my perception of reality. It's stealing my sanity. As I sit up in the abandoned motel bed I look around wildly. Out the window I can see Fleshwalkers mulling around. I clutch my head; the constant pressure there is awful. But I can't figure out any relief. So I push through the pain. I'm not sure why though. My emotions seem to have split off into their own personalities (Anger usually ruling over all the others), and I've become increasingly volatile. Samantha is about one more fight from leaving. _

_If…no, when…she leaves, I don't think I'll survive. Speaking of which, I don't see her in the motel room on the other bed across from me, but she doesn't like being around me much anymore. She usually spends her time in the woods alone and hunting or killing zombies. Which leads to more fights, because my jealous personality thinks she's off seeing someone else. (Who? It's not like there are any more survivors nearby) I lie back down on the hard bed, trying for the thousandth time to pull my fragmented personalities back together. It's no use. I'm falling apart._

_I'd already hit Samantha, something I'd promised myself I would never do on purpose. She, of course, had hit me back, but the mark that remained on her had haunted me. I'd lost myself. I couldn't find compassion, love or even happiness in the jumble of confusion, anger, jealousy, pain and hurt. I was quite lost. The door swings open, and Samantha (I've somehow lost the knack for calling her Sam) quickly shoves a dresser in front of the door. As she turns back towards me I can see something I'd never wanted to see in her eyes._

_Fear._

_She's scared of me. Depression, one of the moodiest yet less harmful of the personalities, comes on full swing. I hang my head, running a hand through my disheveled white hair. I don't like the depression personality though; this is one is when I think of the most mind ravaging thoughts. Did Samantha ever love me? What if I can never be fixed? Shouldn't I just kill myself and stop Samantha's suffering? I've almost bought into that before, but the other personalities are so desperate to continue their existence that one always takes over before I can go through with it. Prolonging my suffering. _

_I'm not even Danny anymore._

_I'm just a host for all of these twisted emotions. I shuddered. I'm fairly sure I have a fever. I look around for my bag, and find it on top of the dresser. I stand, and Sam immediately snaps to attention, clenching her fists. This sends anger into a fury. How dare she react that way? That insolent bitch! While jealousy has his own thoughts on the matter, thinking it's because she'd rather be with someone else. I'm fairly sure that jealousy is correct. I wouldn't want to hang around me either. _

_But I ignore them all, wincing at the harsh bolt of pain that rattles in my skull. I reach into my bag and grab an unused thermometer, it's an old fashioned one, made of glass, but it'll do. I sit back on the bed, my back turned to her as I wait a few minutes for the thermometer to heat. I take it out and stare._

_115 degrees._

_-_x-

I don't like being woken up suddenly. Nothing good ever comes from it. You always end up waking to a worse reality than the one you were in last. Point and case, as I awaken groggily I hear the chatter of a crowd. I blink sleepily awake to see a group at least three times the size of the one that had greeted me at Vlad's survivor camp. (At least I'm not naked this time.) They're staring at me like a bunch of kids waiting for a snake to eat a mouse. I wonder what they're expecting when I see a raw slab of beef is placed in front of me on a steel plate.

Oh. They want to see me feed. Most of them are children, or young teens. Who are still naïve enough to find something like this cool. I wonder if I should put on a show for them, growling and foaming at the mouth and such, or if I should bore them by eating it a bit more civilly. (Yes, I'll have my slab of raw beef with crumpets, my good man.) I sigh, if I'm going to be trapped here, I might as well entertain myself. I shift into a position where I'm on all fours and lower my shoulders so I hold a stance akin to a hunting wolf. I grin broadly, making sure to show off my razor sharp teeth before I bite into the meat. I snarl obscenely loud, and I look up for a moment to see the children scream and hide behind the young teens. I try not to laugh as I gnaw on the meat.

I lift the meat (not using my hands of course) with a growl and lower my upper half and pretend to prepare myself to pounce. They all take a few steps back from the bars of my cell, and I grin around the bloody meat hanging from my mouth. Because it's not human blood I can easily push back the fog as I tease them. It feels nice to make light of my serious situation. That is, until Sam shows up in the crowd. I hurriedly swallow the chunk of meat in my mouth and drop the rest of it to the plate.

I chuckle nervously and stand from my fake hunting pounce. My audience runs away as I walk up to the bars. She's not looking at me. I wipe the blood from my mouth and place one hand on the ghost proof shield, feeling the tingle as it reacts to my ghost half.

"Earlier…you said you would explain to me. Why…why that stuff happened." She looks truly hurt and I wince, "Danny, you scared me from people for a long time. I was sure that it was my fault that you started acting the way you did." I shook my head rapidly.

"You have no idea how wrong you are. Let me explain."

-x-

_I felt that a padded cell would be better suited to my mental state right now, rather than the open field we were camped in. I hadn't failed to take notice of Samantha keeping all of the weapons on her side. She even had the small amount of silverware on her side. But I understood. Or at least, the parts of me that felt understanding understood. I wouldn't trust myself with a spoon right now. _

_I'd been periodically checking my temperature; even taking an electronic thermometer from a drug store we'd passed to check it more accurately. All that had done was assure me how mentally fucked I was. Actually, I was fucked in every sense of the word. This thermometer measured all the way to the hundredth decimal which told me that my temperature is currently 113.679. Which is still a deadly temperature. I should be dead by now. A temperature that's constantly this high would boil my brain, fry my enzymes, and kill my immune system. I am quite literally a ticking time bomb for death._

_But I can't tell her. I hug myself as I shake violently. The fever is messing with my heat, causing me to feel frozen. I hold back a cough as I burrow deeply into my sleeping bag. I would love to tell her that I'll probably be dead within a day, but speaking to her is dangerous to my already shattered mental health. _

"_Danny." I freeze and my personalities jump to attention. I try desperately to ignore them, "Look at me." We don't spend a lot of time looking at each other anymore, so she probably has no idea how skinny I've become, my ribs being countable, and my hips stabbing at the skin that surrounds them. She probably doesn't know how sunken in my eyes are, and how pale my skin has faded to become. But she probably attributes that to a major lack of sleep. She hasn't seen me run off to vomit up whatever food I eat because I can't keep it down. _

_She grabs my shoulder, her hand pressing so hard I'm sure it will bruise. My angry personality immediately jumps center stage. I spin around, grabbing her wrist and bending it so she lets out a squeal of pain. He's in charge now. He grins. _

"_What?" He asks, his voice wavering. Sam steels herself and yanks her wrist from his hold. _

"_I'm done." She stands and he immediately follows, reclaiming her arm._

"_You're not going anywhere!" He throws her to the ground, quickly grabbing a hunting knife from the weapons stash and toys with it expertly. Her eyes widen in fear and shock, "If I can't have you." He throws the knife at her, she slides out of the way, but it hits her right shoulder, "__**No one can**__." He picks her up then, yanking the knife from her shoulder and raising it to her throat. I want to stop this. I so desperately do. But I can't. He's stronger than me. But she's smart, and lands a kick to his groin. I feel the pain all the same, and she runs off. _

_Never to be seen again._

-x-

"You were _dying_?" Sam is shocked and I smile meekly, "Why didn't you tell me?" She pushes aside the cell door and steps in. For a moment she just stares at me. Then she slaps me directly across the face. I stumble backwards in shock, nearly falling before I catch a notch in the wall.

"What the hell?" I ask and she jumps forward, hugging me tightly.

"I thought you'd gone crazy." She shakes as she hugs me. Is she…crying? I wrap my arms around her as well with a sigh.

"Yeah, I did too." I kiss the top of her head, and she freezes, clearly still not completely trusting me. My mistake.

"How did you survive?"

"I tried and failed to kill myself; apparently the bleeding was enough to lower my temperature and my body fought off the infection." She freezes in my arms and stares at me. Her tear brimmed eyes are heart breaking. I pull the short sleeve on her purple top aside to see the jagged pink line of where the hunting knife had bitten her. A flood of guilt overtakes me.

"Danny, why would you…" I can't believe she would ask.

"You're kidding right? My family is dead, you were my only companion. I didn't see the point in living. I…sometimes still don't." She kisses me then, and it's not the fiercely agitated kiss from earlier. This one actual has emotion. Relief, joy, love, all things I had missed. Her scent is impossible to ignore, so I instead of fighting instinct, I decide to work alongside it, growling but not biting. This seems to be enough, but for how long, I don't know. But I push those thoughts to the back of my mind and grin against her mouth, lowering my hands to her hips. I begin to press her against the nearby wall, not meaning to, but merely running on instinct. And it's a normal, teen boy instinct this time. It's a very welcome change. She sighs with pleasure as I bite at her neck, recalling what spots she liked the most. As my hand brushes the bottom hem of her shirt we freeze.

A loud wolf whistle is heard from just outside the ghost shield. One of her legs slightly lifted and wrapped around the back of my leg, and my hands on her hips and poised to tear away her shirt. It's a compromising position to say the least. I snarl at Dan, who just so happens to be standing just beyond the ghost shield. (It's the mood killer to end all mood killers.) Dan just grins, tilting his head in the picture of innocence (or, as innocent as a murdering psychopath can be.)

"Leave." I state flatly.

"Now, why would I do that? This is _so _much more interesting than anything else I've seen around here." That is way beyond creepy.

"You are such a pervert." I accuse him but he just shrugs in a gesture of 'what're you going to do?' Sam sighs.

"Since we aren't going to get any _privacy_," Pointed glare at Dan, "I suppose I could take you on a tour now that I know you're not crazy."

"Oh, believe me, he's plenty crazy." He seems plenty proud of himself but I just flip him off, "I'm sorry, am I cock-blocking you? How rude of me."

I will get him for that.

-x-

_I collapsed, my legs giving out beneath my malnourished body. There was no way I could catch her now. I curled in on myself, shaking violently. Her blood is on my hands. I push myself up unsteadily and gag. I have nothing to vomit. This isn't right. Everything everywhere is fucked up. I shouldn't be here, slowly dying. I should be at home, or at the movies, or the Nasty Burger, hell I'd even settle for school. I clamped my eyes shut forcefully, willing myself to wake from this nightmare. _

_When I open my eyes it's nighttime. I must've passed out. Snow slowly starts to fall and it literally sizzles as it meets my roasting skin. I push myself onto my back. I can faintly see the moon behind the clouds. It's a Blood Moon. The usually white circle is now an ominous red color. I remember hearing legends about a Blood Moon. How all of the freaks come out now. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts. I'd never had to wait for a Blood Moon to see a ghost. I cough. I'm ridiculously thirsty. So I crawl back to the campsite, chugging down nearly an entire canteen before curling into Sam's forgotten sleeping bag. It smells like her. I cry._

_No one can hear me as I yell at the red moon, blaming it for everything. The zombie virus, me getting sick, Samantha leaving. None of this should be happening, but it is. And it's all the moons fault. It must be. And it must only want to torture me. I mean, what's the point? Why did I survive if I was just going to be endlessly tortured?_

"_Why? What the fuck did I ever do? Am I cursed? Did Dad piss off a Gypsy when Mom was pregnant with me? Is that why I can't do one goddamn thing without the world nearly ending?" I can't speak anymore as my sobs cut me off. Maybe this was happening because of when I was six and I cut off Bearbert's leg when I was playing astronaut. Maybe this was happening because of when I was ten and I made that F on my spelling test look like an A so I could trick Mom and Dad. Or maybe, just maybe…the world just doesn't want me. There's no other explanation for why a kid as young as I was would be forced to endure so much pain and suffering. _

_I didn't hurt people. I didn't steal. I didn't cheat. I tried to be good. I'd been raised to believe that if you were good, good would be done to you. Horseshit. My fingers skim the edge of the hunting knife. I pick it up. Its metallic steel surface is tinted with blood, and reflects the Blood Moon with certain irony. I see myself in its reflection, looking sickly and heartbroken. I recall back to English class, and one of Sam's favorite Shakespeare lines. How did it go?... 'Oh happy dagger, this is thy sheath; there rust and let me die.' My breath hitches as the thought crosses my mind._

_My fractured personalities swirl and protest, begging for their lives. Too late. The blood that flows from the slit at the bottom of my neck is far more than I'd anticipated. I clasp a hand over the self-inflicted wound, suddenly regretting my breakneck decision. Actually, the liquid that pours from the wound is a strange mix of ectoplasm and blood, the two refusing to mix and staying are their own distinct colors. My heart erratically pulses, each pulse sending an uneven spurt of blood/ectoplasm. Not deep enough. The gash isn't deep enough, it didn't severe any major arteries, it's only deep enough to make me writhe. _

_Oddly enough, the headache is gone. The constant pressure that seemed to have been rattling in my skull is gone. And along with my life fluids seeping out, so do they. Finally, I pull my emotions back together into one collective personality. One person. Danny. I pass out as a happy man._

-x-

Don't get me wrong, the tension is still there. You know, that awkward 'I tried to kill you once, but only because I was schizophrenic for a while' time? Probably not, I don't even believe my own story. Sam and I walk alongside each other though, but still hold a respectable distance between us. Dan makes sure to notice.

"Wow, I thought you two were joined at the hip! The front of the hips of course…" Sam is doing her best to ignore him. But Dan is like a puppy. And puppies get even louder and _more _obnoxious the more you ignore them.

"Do you want me to bite you again?" He was about to answer when there was a tug on his cape.

"There he is!" A child, seven at most, yelled and a gang of children rounded the corner.

"TACCKKLLEEE!"

"Fuck, not again." And Dan flies off, all the while being chased by a rabid gang of children. At least he's not bothering us. She watches the children chase off Dan with slight amusement.

"I'm glad to see the children have found a new toy." I look at her in confusion, "Oh, they always do that whenever we have new arrivals. They pick one out of the new group, and basically stalk and attack that person until they no longer find it amusing." Good, that sick perverted bastard need a slice of humble pie. We continue on our way, going up a winding wooden staircase and up to some kind of veranda.

"So, this is the Forum." She waves over the entire Forum. The view really is fantastic, and I see that there are four different sections of the Forum, each in their own respective sections. The first section, affectionately called Stitch because it is mainly for clothing, tapestry and cloth of all sorts, is the farthest to the right and closest to the Hatch. The second, called Staple (for unknown reasons) has all products relating to food, along with live animals, and is the section to the right of Stitch. The third, called Lax because it includes businesses that aren't exactly a necessity, like spas and such, is located next to Staple. And finally, farthest to the right, is Rummage. This is the place where all the odds and ends are. It's basically a miniature flea market.

"This is…really amazing. Did you create this place?" It wasn't a farfetched thought, if she could create a protest in a night, then it was a given that she could raise a colony in a few months.

"You give me too much credit." She gives me her trademarked smile, mischievous but kind, "The original leader of this colony was the one that found me. I was bleeding pretty badly from that stab, and he rescued me. He took me here, taught me how everything works and then he just…died. Like, out of nowhere." She obviously was attached to the previous leader, "He was a great guy. Like a dad to me." I let out a sigh of relief. As strange as it sounds, I was a little jealous of how great she thought he was.

"Now, I have a question for you." She walks her fingers along the edge of the balcony and up my skeletal arm. I watch the hand cautiously as it walks up the bone. She stops just before the skin starts on my elbow.

"What happened to you? I want to know how this…" She pointedly looks at my arm, and her fingers continue to dance over the bone, "happened. I want to know everything." I spend the next fifteen minutes explain everything that had happened from the point where I'd met Girl. I hesitate when I get to the part about Scott and his leg. He'd come from this colony, what if she knew him? I'd just patched things up between us; I didn't think our relationship could afford another hit. But when I told her she seemed more intrigued than anything, and I continued. She grinned when I told her about biting Dan, and winced when I described him ripping the skin from my arm.

"And…here we are." She nods, thinking over everything I'd told her.

"I still want to know something." I nod, encouraging her.

"What?"

"How did you try to kill yourself?" A long awkward silence followed. I decide to show her rather than tell her. I pull down the neckline of my t-shirt to reveal the jagged line across the base of my throat. It's slightly raised from the rest of my skin, and when I'm in my ghost form the line glowed. I wasn't sure why, but it had been like a constant slap in the face every time I managed to get a look at it, which is why I usually ignored it, and sometimes even pretended it didn't exist.

"It matches." She grasps her shoulder and I can't believe that _that's _her response to my suicide attempt scar. But she's right; the marks look nearly identical even down to the length of the wound. And for a few moments it's a really touching, and sweet moment between us. The moment is shattered though as a young man stumbles towards us, clearly rattled. The gun held in his unsure hands shakes.

"I…I don't know how, but they're in."

"What?"

"Zombies! Tons of them! They must have come through the Hatch!" Sam stood in shock for a moment before looking back over the balcony. The Stitch has broken into chaos, and a ring of survivors' blast at a moaning horde of Fleshwalkers. The blasts from their guns flicker light in odd directions.

"Why was it open? How did they get past the dome?" My eyes widen as I try to nonchalantly step backward. Oh, _shit_. Sam isn't facing me, so she doesn't see how panicked my expression is. But he sees.

"You!" He points accusingly at me, "You and your band of freaks were the only ones come through there in the past couple of days! I knew you couldn't be trusted!" And he's right. It's totally, and completely, my fault.

-x-

_It was no doubt. I had lost it completely. I wasn't only talking to myself, I was singing. And I hated singing. But here I was, singing to myself just to fill the deafening silence. The absence of Sam's presence felt strange, and almost painful. And it seemed cruel that only once I'd miraculously cured myself she'd disappeared. I couldn't prove that I was fixed to her, because I couldn't find her. I'd tried. I'd tried to tack where she had disappeared into the forest but the snow that had fallen had affectively obliterated any trace of her._

_I rubbed sorely at my throat. It had only been a day and the bandaging was already ragged. I held back a whimper of pain as I picked the bandaging from my wound, all the while singing Sober by Pink. My voice hitched as I pulled the bandage from a particularly deep section of the cut._

"_I'm safe…up high…" I grind my teeth as I work on the next layer of bandage, "nothing can touch me. But why do I feel this party's over?" _

"_Because it is?" I answered myself, laughing at my own joke. (Like I said, crazy…) "Where's the hydrogen peroxide when you need it?" I remember practically bathing in that stuff back in my superhero days. _

_As I rub at the wound tenderly with water I reach for my thermometer. When I test my temperature it comes back as 103.002. It's still considered a fever, and a high one at that, but it's a drastic 12 degree drop from a few days ago. And I've been able to keep down semi-solid food and all the water I want. Things are slowly returning to normal._

_Except for the fact that they are absolutely NOT. Nothing is normal. Sam would be the first problem. I realize that now that I don't have her, I want her more than ever. And sleeping with her definitely had NOT helped that fact. As I wrap a new bandage around my throat I can't help but wonder if this is how I'll always be._

_Alone and crazy._

-x-

The zombies were put down quickly enough, but it cost the lives of three men and two women who had been shopping when a zombie had pounced them. We'd had to shoot them on the spot, and one of the women just so happened to be shopping with her three young children. All the while I was being held by two large men, each holding a gun to various vital organs. Apparently, my touring privileges were revoked. I was no longer allowed out of my "pen" as one of the men had put it.

I was held totally responsible for the death of those five people, and the suffering of their families. I completely accepted it. I should've remembered to close the Hatch. But I was too busy being a failure. I had been so eager to see her that I'd just totally forgotten all the repercussions. How very Danny of me. The crowd had yet to disperse, and a few of them were busy dragging the zombies' corpses out of the entrance from the Stitch and up to the surface. I'd offered to help, but I was promptly denied.

And Sam was doing her best to try and stay objective and unbiased. She was busy trying to remove the bodies of the deceased survivors before they drew too much more attention, while at the same time she was trying to calm the raving crowd. They cried for my blood.

"It's brought nothing but suffering!" I like how I've suddenly been demoted to the status of 'it'.

"Kill it!"

"Burn it!"

"Beat it!" All very appealing options, but lets be reasonable here. Aren't I supposed to be the bloodthirsty one?

"Sam, what do you want to do with the traitor?" I gulp. The moment of truth. She stands in front of me and the defensive untouchable rouse falls back into place. Her eyes flicker to the deep scar at the base of my neck.

"Jail him. I'll decide punishment when he has a _fair _trial." With these loons as my peers? I'll be hanging on the witch burning post by morning. I'm dragged away and back down into the Vault. But unlike last time, I'm thrown into my cell, landing face first into the steel feeding plate.

"And it's been taken as a collective vote," A huge hand pins my shoulder to the ground, "That this should be taken as a precautionary measure." _CA-CLANK!_ Something heavy and metal snaps around my neck, and its attached to a chain which is intern imbedded in the wall. Fuck no. It's a collar.

I'm wearing a collar.

"What the hell? I'm not going anywhere! Why the collar?"

"Because we only have one ghost proof cell." A third man presents Dan, who is snarling and writhing against his hold. Normally, Dan would phase out of his hold and give the guard an ass whooping that he'd never forget. But Dan wears a collar identical to mine, the only difference being the size. The collars must both be ghost proof.

"This one," He nods at an enraged Dan, "has admitted to destroying our dome, so he is considered to be as high risk as you are." And Vlad's getting off easy because he didn't technically touch anything. He didn't even open the door. They toss Dan in with the same manner they threw me, but with his different body proportions, he skids comically for nearly a foot until he hits the wall. The guard hooks the chain attached to his collar into the wall before Dan can protest.

Dan springs up, straining against the chain and making the links make a wind chime like noise as he moves.

"Who the _fuck _do you think you are? No one imprisons me!" Except for me of course, I've successful impressed you. I almost mutter that, but the chain isn't short enough to keep Dan from attacking me. I watch Dan rant and rave as the guards slide the bars shut and activate the ghost shield. He's snarling at the end of the chain, reminding me of an angry Rottweiler tied to a tree.

"The nerve! I was just minding my own business, I wasn't even doing anything evil for once, and they just put this fucking collar on me like I'm some kind of dog…" Dan pants with anger for a second before slamming into the ghost shield, "_I am not dog, damnit!" _ The inmates across the hallway scream as Dan punches repeatedly at the shield, not even making a dent for all his efforts. It's almost funny to watch.

As he gives up on punching, he starts pacing like a caged animal (which he is) and the chain follows him like a defensive snake.

"Why the fuck are you so calm?" I stare up at him before breaking into a fit of laughter.

"Are you done with your temper tantrum, Dan-Dan?" I continue laughing loudly; barely dodging Dan's fist headed for my chest. He misses and his fist hits the solid rock floor. He doesn't even wince.

"I can't believe this, I've been free for a little over a day and now I'm trapped again."

"Look." I stand and unwrap my own chain that had tangled around my arm, "I'm no happier about this than you are. But acting like a wild animal usually doesn't make the guards to happy." Dan grabs me by the front of my shirt and pulls me towards him, straining my chain and causing my neck to be forcefully pulled back.

"Who's acting, _Danny-boy_?" A guard passes by, looks at us, and passes by, uncaring. Gee thanks. "I'm not giving up so easily." He drops me before running his hands along the walls, feeling the pulse of the ghost shield through them. No way out.

"I love that I'm the mature one here." Dan growls but ignores me. He's clearly beyond frustrated as his fist reels back and he lets out a scream of pure rage. His fist connects with the stone with so much force that the entire structure of our cell rattles. But he pays the price, and there's an obscenely loud crack as three of his fingers dislocate. He doesn't react to the dislocation like I expect, simply popping them each back into place. He really is quite the freak.

"Once again, I'm trapped because of you." Dan's back is facing me, but I can still see his diaphragm move deeply as he takes in aggravated breaths. I glare at the back of his head. He must have something against taking responsibility. He of all people should know that you always create your own demons. And apparently he has something against confined spaces because he's back to pacing. He isn't looking at me as he paces, and his eyes dart in every direction as if he's anticipating an attack. There is no measure of time in here, but when I begin to feel tired I assume he's been pacing for at least two hours. He shows no sign of stopping anytime soon.

So I settle myself on the cot and use my good arm as a pillow. The sound of Dan's chain rattling against the stone floor is maddening and I glare at him. He doesn't take notice of it though, and I'm nearly certain that he's going to start wearing a hole in the floor like in a cartoon.

"How can you sleep at a time like this?" Dan glares down at me and I snarl in return.

"Not all of us can run on no sleep, you know." I yawn. I haven't been able to get any real sleep. Any time I could usually manage sleep was almost always interrupted by someone or something. "But I don't know if I can—" long yawn "sleep with you in the same room…as…me…" I seem to prove my own point as I slowly fall asleep.

"Nighty night, Danny-boy."

-x-

_I'd most definitely underestimated how difficult it would be to survive on my own. Not just because of the boredom and loneliness, but because I didn't hunt. That had been Sam's job. She'd hunted, and I'd watched her back. Now I am missing a very large part of that equation. I had a pistol, a hunting knife (that I hated to use for obvious reasons) and one small tube of bait. This was a problem, because a pistol is extremely loud. If (When) I missed the shot, it would frighten off nearby food for miles. _

_NOTHING good came from me hunting. And I couldn't use my ghost powers to hunt because, unlike people, they could sense the presence of ghosts almost immediately. So even with invisibility, they could easily see me coming. And I need food. My only other option would be looting a store, but the nearest town was horribly overrun and even with my powers was a complete lost cause. So I'm stuck trying, and failing to hunt, my stomach and magazine chiding me every time I missed. _

_So far, I had no food. I frowned as I ran a hand down my ribs, each rising into distinct bumps. I was sitting in a tree, hanging by my knees so I looked like a sleeping bat. I scan the landscape (barren of edible wildlife) around me for food. And out of nowhere, a cat perches on my knees. I nearly fall from my branch in shock as I stare at it. It's completely black, and a bit skinny, but it could do for a meal._

"_Good kitty, kitty…" Never in my life had I thought of eating a cat. And not just a cat, but a housecat. This thing had obviously been someone's pet, judging by how willing it was to let me hold it and the purple collar around its neck. I almost wish it had put up more of a struggle. I can't bare the thought of killing a creature this trusting. I find the cats name tag._

"_Of fucking course." I sigh. The name tag reads in scrawling cursive:_

_Sam. _

_-x-_

I don't know if you all know this, but in a normal person, your brain boils at the temperature of 106. So at 115, you are a dead Danny :/ But not this Danny! Cause he's messed up! Normally a high temperature like that would kill him (it would basically rip apart his DNA) but considering his DNA has a coating of ectoplasm, its keeping him intact, and alive. But unfortunately, because his brain is under so much pressure from his fever, he is getting schizophrenic tendencies. Poor, poor, insane Danny.

Second order of business. Special thanks to three people in particular (In no particular order). First would be _**Saty (Satrinity)**_, my awesome beta that saves me from my grammar mistakes. Second would be _**Stitch Witch (kuroneko)**_ who has been keeping me up until five in the morning roll playing Danny Phantom XD…and third, would be _**Ray (Inuyuke)**_ who was the first to know that this chapter would be as long as it is, and gives me someone to talk to when I'm bored at school and also role plays DP with me. ^_^… I think I'm addicted to RP's you guys 0_0 I have a problem -_- I blame you Stitches, you sociopathic, Dan dating witch, you. (Extremely inside joke…) You hooked me on RP's…

Annnyyy_hoe_… Thanks to my reviewers! **Heracelio**, **Fugitive of Gray, Kuroneko52, **Dark Dan, **Jakkeirafan223**, **son of wind, Hellbreaker, Inuyuke, **and **Rogue Alice. **They keep me going. Oh, and this isn't a cliffhanger. It's just AWESOME.

_**PAY ATTENTION NOW KIDDIES! **__**Next week will be my fall break, so, although I don't want you to expect it, you can be fairly sure that I'll have an early update for you guys next week. ^_^**_


	9. Chapter 9

_"I don't __**care **__how inhumane you think this is, it's necessary. We've never had any human blood infected with the zombie virus before. This is a once in a life time opportunity." _My mouth twists down into a scowl. The collar still hangs as a constant pressure around my neck, and it chafes at the raw skin as I shift my head. But that isn't the worst of my situation at all. For one, I have a muzzle. There is a human muzzle on the lower half of my face, hugging my jaw tightly and keeping it from being able to move. It's made of linked chains, so it ends up feeling so weird and fake that I'm sure it's a Halloween prop.But as I try to force my jaw open it stays clamped shut, so it must be worth something.

"You can't do this to him, at least not while he's conscious! You take him from his cell while he's still sleeping, and that doesn't _bother _you?" I turn my head in the direction of the speaking.

"Look, I know you're protective of your son and all, but the minute he became a snack to a zombie, he gave up a good amount of rights." It's the young man who told us about the zombies breaking in and Vlad speaking.

"He didn't choose this! He's already stressed enough as it is!" Vlad argues, waving animatedly in my direction, but neither looks over at me to notice that I'm awake. I growl quietly as I attempt to sit up, but addition restraints hold me firmly to the table at my waist, wrists and ankles.

"Mmmrph!" I try to speak around my muzzle but it comes out as a strangled groan.

"Mr. Masters, I'm afraid you have to leave. We have surgery to do." My eyes widen as I struggle against the bonds. They…they don't mean on _me _do they? Vlad's hands spark to life with ectoplasmic flames, but a ghost proof collar quickly snaps around his neck, killing the flames instantly as they throw Vlad out of view. Oh _SHIT. _An older man approaches me now, and he's wearing an outfit more terrifying than Freddy Kruger and Jason combined. Scrubs.

"Nmm! Waammt ruu ou dommn?" I thrash against the hold and a needle sticks into my right shoulder. It burns like he's injecting anti-freeze straight into my veins. My scream is intensely muffled by my forced closed jaw.

"Oh relax it was just a small dosage of…Potassium chloride. Not enough to kill you, of course, just something to help paralyze the muscles." Potassium chloride? Well, what little I'd paid attention to in chemistry told me that chloride is chlorine, and when mixed with the wrong stuff, chlorine could either explode or…kill you. He said it wasn't a strong enough dosage to kill me, and I hoped it was true. I mean, salt is sodium chloride and you can eat that without dying so maybe getting injected with just a little bit of it wouldn't exactly _kill _me. But it still burns like piss.

"Shhh…" A warm hand presses to my forehead as he jams a needle just above where the skeletal part of my left arm begins, extracting black and red goo in a large hypodermic needle. Tucker, if you were still alive, this would be the time when I would like to tell you that you were right to fear all things medical. My muscles soon started cramping uncontrollably, but my heart beat at an incredibly panicked pace, making me feel like my ribs were going to split because of the pressure.

"Look at this, it's like the blood and zombie fluids aren't mixing at all! Like oil and water! Blood is highly water based, so perhaps the zombie fluids are oil based?" I growled in the back of my throat. They're treating me like a science experiment when I'm fully awake and conscious.

"Murrr furrrkkkrrr…" I snarl through my muzzle. The older man surgically cuts my shirt off, placing a stethoscope to the center of my chest. I wonder how my heart doesn't deafen him.

"115 per minute. A possible arrhythmia? I'm thinking it's an arrhythmic tachycardia." I didn't understand most of the words used in that sentence, but I _did _understand that they didn't sound like good terms. Not the kind of words that get you a lollipop after a doctor's visit at least. I thrash on the table, trying to shake off the Potassium Chloride effects but failing.

"Look at these scars! What a life this one must've had." This was taking it too far. He was now treating me like a mutt found at a vet (does you want some brains? Does you?) I wouldn't stand for this. I couldn't.

"Burns, lacerations…hmm…look at this one, right on the base of the neck." He runs his thumb along the jagged line of my suicide scar. I swallow and snarl. Every muscle in my body was rebelling, my mental urge to fight and my physical reaction to the Potassium Chloride waged war on each other, and that low wolf like snarl ripped through my teeth.

"Looks too clean to be inflicted by a zombie or nature, I'm guessing a suicide attempt. Am I right?" He looks at me straight in the eyes.

"Ssssoo oott aa bbchhh!"

"Hand me that scalpel over there." Oh _**fuck **_no. I grind my teeth, the Potassium Chloride keeping me from writhing and pulling away from the scalpel as it bites into my left arm. Blood and zombie 'fluids' flowed from the bleeding cut and splattered across my chest because of how fast my heart is pushing the blood.

"Sttrr!" Ectoplasm starts oozing from the wound now. Both men stare. It's now a mental battle of epic proportions. My ghostly side has jumped to attention at the pain and threat, but was met with the wall of the zombie infection. But it wouldn't be subdued so easily. I felt a strange clash of heat and cold, each on opposite sides of my body before merging in the middle to theoretically battle. The battle seems to override the Potassium Chloride paralysis and my back arches involuntarily as a bright light nearly blinds me.

My back slams back onto the table harshly and the collar around my neck buzzes with aggravation. But I can move. I flex my fingers and then my constricted wrists before shifting my shoulders.

"What…what _**is **_he?" I stare at them, and they are looking at me like I'm some sort of fallen angel.

"A…a ghost I think but…" Ghost? The collar on my neck prevents me from looking at myself but I can assume by the detached coldness of my body that _something _has changed. I can't be sure, but I think Danny Phantom has returned.

-x-

_ I. Have. A. Lonely. Guy. Cat. I'm not even sure that sentence should even fit together, but I honestly can't think of a different way to phrase that. I have a lonely guy cat named after my love interest. I'm a fucking mini-Vlad. There's so many things wrong here that I can't even begin to count them._

"_Ok, I want to make this clear. You are NOT my lonely guy cat. I don't have a lonely guy cat." Sam the cat walks alongside me as I wander through the forest, both of us starving, but she looks up at me with a 'who are you kidding?' look, "Ok, so you are a cat, and I am a guy, and I am particularly lonely, but that doesn't make you my lonely guy cat!" She jumped up onto my shoulder then and began pawing at a loose strand of hair._

_ "So, I'm talking to you. That doesn't mean anything." _

_ "Meow." _

_ "Shut up! It doesn't!" I growled and ran my hands through my hair. Now I wasn't only talking to it, but I was arguing with it. Something is seriously wrong with me. I decide to drop the subject, not wanting to mentally torture myself further. As we approach a small ring of destroyed tents, probably a former survivor camp, Sam jumps from my shoulder and makes a b-line for one tent in particular. She digs around in it for a moment before coming back to me with a large bag of preserved beef jerky. _

_ "Uh…thanks." I reach down and open the bag, handing her a piece and taking a few for myself, "I'm guessing you belonged to someone at this camp." She does the cat equivalent of a shrug and continues eating, mostly ignoring me. As she eats, I decide to scavenge around the camp, not finding much besides a satchel that I decide to keep, an empty and dented canteen. Then a smell hits me like a wall. It's so strong that it's almost tangible._

_ Rotten. Like leaving a steak outside in the summer for three days, and that's still an understatement. I gag as I search for the source of the smell, finding it coming from a considerable lump wrapped in a torn tent. Whatever's inside has been gnawed at by predators and dried blood is scattered around the bundle. I barely nudge the bundle and a small child's hand falls from it. I gasp, covering my mouth to keep back the bile as the rest of the tent unbundles around the child. _

_ The cause of death is clear. A dagger, almost a foot long juts from the center of a small girl's, six at most, chest. Murder. The word "Repent" is slashed on the bare skin of her decaying stomach. A tattered notecard is nailed to her forehead. _

_**To spill the blood of the young and innocent will surely save us all. **_

_ I didn't know what this girl was like, or who she was before she's been murdered, but I cried for her. No. Not for her. I suppose that somewhere, way back in the very back recesses of my mind, I'd believed that a little shred of humanity still existed. I'd thought that when push comes to shove, people still had the capability to be civil._

_ Civility and humanity had died with this girl._

_-x-_

This is awful. It's like I'm starting all over again with my powers, but they're even more unruly this time around. Randomly setting things on fire, turning things and even other _people _invisible without me touching them, and causing all the furniture in the room to float in the air. It was like a bad poltergeist movie and Dan was subjected to most of it.

"Gah!" He hits the wall as a bucket slams into the back of his head and his chain curls around his legs, yanking tight to cause him to fall to the ground completely, "I blame you." He snarls from the ground, yanking angrily at the chain that holds firm around his legs.

"It's not my fault that my powers have gone AWOL! They shouldn't even be working with this stupid collar on!" I tug at the collar irritably as Dan is lifted in the air about a foot before being dropped harshly and the chain suddenly slackens as he lets out a groan of pain.

"…ow." He rubs the side of his face that he landed on, "God, my cellmate is a poltergeist. Someone call Hollywood, I have the next big movie idea!" I glare at him for a moment and the small sink in our cell explodes violently. We both flinch away, but Dan can't go far because of the range of his chain. So he is forced to endure the water, and he lets out a hiss like a cat being dunked in a swimming pool as the water hits his hair. I nearly faint from the laughter.

His hair seems to un-light itself, falling in a limp mop of long, normal white hair. We stare at each other for a moment before my hysterical laughter begins.

"What?" He props his cheek on his hand, glaring at me like a pissed snake. I'm able to pull myself from my laughter enough to stutter out a reply.

"Y-y-you look l-like an e-elf!" His brows arch before he deepens his glare, his eyes glowing entirely red, and the color swallows even his pupil, but I can't stop myself, "A g-girly elf!" I'm lying on the ground now, trying to halt my uproarious laughter but failing miserably. It's only when I feel the chain pulled taunt at my collar do I realize that Dan has dragged me as close to him as our collars will allow, a deep snarl rattling in the back of his throat. My laughter dies immediately.

"You want to rephrase that?" He grips my jaw so hard that I swear I can feel the bone bend.

"No…" It's difficult to get the word out with his fierce grip on my jaw but I manage, refusing to back down. His other hand curls into a fist, reeling back and landing a punch to my stomach that sends me reeling and splatters stars across my vision. The cot in the cell spontaneously combusts as he throws me against the cell bars, the ghost shield zapping me harshly. I can hear the cell bars warp and bend, one flying out of its spot completely and slamming into the opposite wall.

As Dan's fist curls again, preparing for a second strike, my feral side decides it's had enough, merging with my ghost powers to create a potent cocktail of power. As his fist travels towards my face, I catch it and place a kick to his stomach, sending him flying into the opposite wall where he hits with a deafening crack. He stands unsteadily, clutching the right side of his ribs and even I can tell in my altered state of mind that at least three of them are broken, and two of the bones protrude against his flesh and fabric. He covers his mouth as he coughs, ectoplasm staining his hand as he wipes his mouth.

"You're going to pay for that." I snarl and grin, running my tongue over my razor teeth. I strain against the chain as I jump at him but suddenly spin around and sink my teeth into the solid metal. My bite snaps the steel like it was a paper chain crafted by kindergarteners. Free from the chain tugging at my collar, I now crouch on the floor in the pose of a hunting lion, ready to spring. I make the first move.

I literally jump at him, tackling him to the ground. But he's more prepared than I expected. Even with three shattered ribs, he's stronger than me, and he grabs my collar, forcing his spectral energy into it and causing it to send a harsh jolt of electricity to bolt through both of us. I shoot away from him with an annoyed snarl, yanking at the collar like a desperate dog, whimpers included. While I struggle, Dan uses the wall to pick himself up off the floor, staggering slightly before coughing up more ectoplasm.

"What's going on here?" A guard finally makes an appearance but I don't see him, I feel him. Or, more accurately, his heartbeat. Hunger rears in my stomach, causing a horrible pang of pain to shoot through me. I charge at the front of the cell, forgetting the ghost shield before it harshly zaps me with enough force to throw me back into Dan who lets out a cry of extreme pain before crumpling to the ground. As the panicked guard runs off, neither I nor Dan have the energy to fight each other and lay on the ground beside each other, spent.

"You…sonofa…" He coughs up more ectoplasm, "Sonofa…b-bitch…" I growl before whimpering in pain and the water that had still been spurting out of the hole where the sink used to be suddenly ices over before shattering into a thousand ice crystals. My feral side shrinks back behind my ghost powers now, satisfied with its work.

My entire body feels like I just stuck a fork in a light socket, along with the bruises and cuts Dan had inflicted on me. All of this combined added up to make me feel like I'd been electrocuted before being run over by a train.

"Danny!" The guard must've run to get Sam, because here she is, along with Vlad. She deactivates the ghost shield and slides the bars sideways before stepping in with Vlad closely following. She gets to me first, clasping the back of my head and studying my bruised jaw and singed neck. I look over to Dan, wondering why he's so quiet to find him passed out.

"What happened here?" Vlad demands, and I murmur incoherently.

"Danny, focus, are you okay? Can you hear me?" Her words are a little garbled and mixed up, by I manage to arrange them properly and nod.

"Just…just a…disagreement." I laugh but wince at the pain and the cell bars bend loudly. Vlad scowls, studying Dan's shattered ribs.

"I told them not to put you two in the same cell." He then reaches over to my collar and sees the destroyed segment of a chain hanging off of it, "And I knew these _toys _wouldn't hold you." Sam pushes my bangs from my eyes and grabs an ice shard, rubbing it across my forehead in an attempt to soothe me.

"I think we'll have to take both of you back to the medical ward." My eyes shoot open wide and I shake my head furiously, refusing to return to those torturous bastards who had tried to perform surgery on me while I was still awake. But I cringe as the metal collar scrapes my burns and Sam helps me up, one hand around my waist to help steady me as I drape one arm around her shoulder. Vlad sighs, unsteadily lifting Dan who lets out a tired growl of protest before a whimper of pain silences him.

Now I'm willingly returning to the mad scientists.

-x-

_The snowfall is ridiculous. I fall asleep under the stars and wake up under a dome of snow. My ghost form may be more resistant to cold, but it's not completely impenetrable. So when I wake up with Sam the cat curled into my chest, shuddering and shaking, underneath about six inches of snow, I am quite uncomfortable to say the least. I shake off the snow and sit up, seeing absolutely everything coated in ice and snow. It makes the Horde stumbling towards me all the more visible. Oh fuck._

_ I shake off my sleepy haze almost instantly, springing up in a battle stance. Too bad my hands are nearly frozen solid. I growl, shaking them out and igniting them with ectoplasmic fire. _

_ "Come on…" The ice that's formed over them slowly cracks as Fleshwalkers charge at me, and I can tell that they are all starving. Ravenous. Normally, if they were better fed, they wouldn't be so interested in me, because of my ectoplasm, but they wanted anything that could suffice for food. I barely jump out of the way as a Scavenger pounces at me, the ice finally breaking on my hands as I send my fist into the chest of a Fleshwalker that then slams into four others, beginning a domino effect that takes down ten of them. Then I hear a heartbreakingly loud yowl of a cat. Sam. I turn to see a Phantom has its teeth sunk into her arched, furry back as she claws fruitlessly at the Fleshwalker's skinless hands._

_ I can't believe I've let yet __**another**__ Sam down._

-x-

"MORPHINE!" I jump out of my sleep by Dan's roar of anger and protest. I struggle against my bonds to look over at Dan on the examination table beside me. He has about four doctors holding his already restrained limbs as he thrashes and three doctors pressing on his chest to push his ribs back into place. I wince as they succeed on the first rib, and there's a large pop as it resets itself. I wince in empathy. No pain killers on Earth could work on a ghost, so they were going to have to force every rib in while he was fully awake.

"You up, Danny?" I turn my head, noticing the lack of a collar, and see Sam standing over me, a worried look on her face.

"Uh-huh…" I grimace at how horse and low my voice sounds, like a TV villain, "Sore, but I'm up—"

"AAaaahhhh…YOUSONOFABITCH!" I wince again, trying not to look as they pop in another rib.

"You had a lot of burns, only a few of them were third degree though, mainly the ones around your neck. You have some really deep bruises, but those'll go away with time. What happened exactly?" She studies a long burn mark that winds up my shoulder.

"Hmm? I called Dan an elf, he didn't appreciate it and…"

"MOTHERFUCKER!"

"That." Sam laughs quietly.

"So you broke his ribs?" Dan is denting the table will his hands now, shaping the metal to his fingers.

"Not on purpose, but it was an admitted plus." She runs her hands through my knotted hair and frowns at the many bumps and scars she feels on my scalp.

"Can you sit up?" I grunt and force myself up, with her help of course. Normally, this would send the guards and doctors into a frenzy, but because Dan was having a temper tantrum, all eyes were on him as Sam sneaks me from the Medical Bay. I have to admit that I'm thrilled to be out of there. I don't question where we're going but soon find that we are going through the Outpost. She's not being stupid though, and sneaks me back through the alleys of the Outpost to one of the larger houses in the Outpost, sneaking me in through the backdoor.

"Danny, I took you here because we need to talk." No man likes those words. Not one. 'We need to talk' are the words of doom for any man, and she just said them to me.

"O-okay…" There was a heavy knock on the front door and she frowns, taking my hand and leading me up a (surprisingly sturdy) hand built staircase. She pretty much throws me into what seems to be a random room before slamming the heavy door behind her and locking it.

"I can't get a minute to myself, can I?" She goes around the room lighting lanterns, and the room I find myself in can only be described as a Goth paradise. The queen sized bed is draped with black and purple, and has that weird mosquito mesh hanging around it but it's (of course) black. The rest of the room follows suit, with the dresser, vanity, loveseat, and bookcase all being black and purple.

"Sit." She sits on her bed and pats the spot besides her and I awkwardly do so, batting the mosquito mesh out of the way. For some odd reason, I feel fourteen again, and like we're in Sam's room and that I need to be on guard because her parents could barge in at any moment.

"I know that the Hatch incident wasn't your fault. We…we should've checked. But we've never had anyone break down the dome. And I'd like to not prosecute you for it, but it would cause riots." She rubs her face tiredly, pressing her index fingers to her temples just like she'd done a thousand times before. It never worked to relieve stress, but I knew how. I placed my hands on her shoulders, massaging the spot that had always made her relax. The skeletal hand made her jump, but she soon relaxed into my hands, leaning against me.

"I understand. I'll just tell them the truth, they should understand, right?" She frowns, taking my skeletal hand from her shoulder and stretching out the fingers almost uncaringly.

"Malachi won't, and he's one of the main judges." My smile turns into a deep frown.

"Why wouldn't he?" She moves and places her head on my shoulder.

"He's heard…stories of you when I wasn't happy with you. He thinks you're the devil incarnate honestly. And that's putting it nicely." I sigh and bury my nose in her hair, noting how she smells like soap instead of dirt like she did before. I tilt her head up so she has to look at me. I notice that her eyes are back to the way they used to be, a sparkling purple with the emotion and life I remember in them.

"I think the same thing sometimes… but Sam, is that all you took me here for? I mean, how many rules did you break just to tell me something you could've told me back in the Medical Bay?" She blushes now, embarrassed by something.

"Well, I didn't quite bring you here for _just _that." I tilt my head like a confused dog and she rolls her eyes, "We are in my bedroom, what do you think I brought you here for?"

"…what?" She rolls her eyes.

"Clueless." And tackles me to the bed. I get it.

-x-

I'm sorry. I am TOTALLY sorry you guys. This is such a short chapter, but at least it's something, right? ^_^ I needed to get SOMETHING up, so consider this a snack. I'll do better next week. I SWEAR. Another sorry, I didn't update this at the normal time, but I decided I was going to sleep like a person. Special thanks to _**Satrinity, Kuroneko, and Inuyuke. **_You three keep this story going.

Now, thank you for your great reviews, we are half way to 100 :D _**IceDragon19, Kuroneko52, Fugitive of Gray, Rogue Alice, Inuyuke, Hellbreaker **_and_** Jakkeirafan223. **_And once again, SORRY for the shortness. I have been a lazy Skellington…. Now! For the SCIENCE! Potassium Chloride is a common ingredient used in lethal injections but in small doses can be used as a muscle paralyzer. Now, an arrhythmia is an irregularity of the heartbeat. But a tachycardia means abnormally fast, so an arrhythmic tachycardia means a very fast heartbeat.

"Nmm! Waammt ruu ou dommn?" – No! What are you doing?

"Murrr furrrkkkrrr…" – Mother fucker…

"Ssssoo oott aa bbchhh!" – Son of a bitch!

"Sttrr!" – Stop!


	10. Chapter 10

_**PAY ATTENTION KIDDIES! Important! **_

I hope you all aren't scared by a sudden main character change, but we need some ACTION! So…this chapter will be in DANS POV. WHHHAAATTT? (You: I DON'T LIKE CHANGE!) Shut up, hater. Danny's had a good nine chapter run; he'll be back to the main focus next chapter. So for now, enjoy the DAN-NESS!

-x-

_Dan's P.O.V._

It's funny to think how full of themselves humans thought they were when they had a little weaponry. Well, I am a weapon. Just one, (somewhat) living, ultra-destructive, super weapon. And I am prepared to take down anyone in my way. And I already have, bringing mass groups of people into a frenzy by lighting the entire Forum ablaze. I must say, that I missed the violence. The smell of burnt flesh and the strange shadows that flames manage to create. (When did I become a poet?)

But this collar is still a mild annoyance. After they forcefully popped my ribs back into place, I'd escaped while they thought I was too weak to. Typical human behavior. A little dramatizing and they thought I was too drained to need restraints. Good thing I'm an amazing actor. A little screaming here, a lot of cussing there, and some fake panting and then, as if by some glorious coincidence, Danny happened to go missing, further distracting them from me. Absolute perfection.

So, after finding that none of them had the key to this fucking collar, I left them where they were (damaged) in search of who I needed to kill to get this off. But I found my endurance for running had somewhat…been obliterated. I honestly hadn't needed to run at all in ten years. I'd only had to fly. Running had been something of the past, a skill to be forgotten. And it had been. So I had to pause in the maze of caves, panting as I crouched to the ground. I didn't like stopping. Someone might find me, and with how much pain my sore ribs and panting combined were giving me, I actually was starting to get drained.

"Hey…Bonfire dude." I jolt upwards, my hands curling into fists as I search for my target, "Wow! Chill! Just wanna talk. Mono a mono." What approaches me can hardly be considered a threat. A teenager, older than Danny by about a year, with blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail and calm blue eyes that watch me like I'm his closest friend. This kid looks better fit to a pot farm then an abandoned mine.

"Look, stoner, I don't have the time to talk to you. I need to get this thing," I tug at the collar hugging my neck, "off. So unless you have—"

"The key?" He holds up a shiny silver key that reflects the glow from my hair with a cocky grin, "My dad's the head security officer. I swiped it from him when I heard you got loose. Kick ass, brother." I reach for the key but he holds out a hand, "Ah, ah, ah! What's in it for me if I hand over the goods, Bonfire?" I snarl.

"I won't snap your spine in two." I growl, lunging for the key before a shock akin to a high wattage Taser jolts through me, sending me directly to the ground face first. As my ribs hit I let out a muffled cry of pain. I look up at the kid in confusion and he gives me an evil smile that rivals my own.

"Your doggie collar has a remote that can give ya' a hell of a shock." He waves the remote at me and as I swipe at him he presses the large red button in the middle of it, sending a lower wattage shock (but it still hurts like a mother fucker) that sends me back to having my face pressed to the rocky ground.

"What do you _want_?" I struggle up, clutching my sore ribs as I lean against a wall. He thoughtfully juggles the key to my freedom between two fingers like a cigarette.

"To get rid of that _freak _you got here with. Danny, I think it was." He laughs, "You know what I saw?" When I don't answer, he lunges forward unexpectedly, slapping me directly across the face. I stagger slightly, my eyes widening with shock before narrowing with homicidal rage, "That wasn't a rhetorical question!" I eye the remote as I rub my stinging cheek before sending him a toxic glare.

"_What?_" He seems pleased by my response, suddenly relaxing his posture and the smile of a relaxed surfer resettling on his features.

"I…jeez, I saw Sam leading that…thing, to her digs. _I _don't even know what that place looks like! What makes him so special?" So that's where Danny had disappeared to.

"So? Do you want me to kill the kid or what?" He grins.

"I don't care, as long as he's outta the picture...got it, Bonny?" _BONNY?_

"BONNY?" Seriously, _**Bonny? **_

"Yeah, short for Bonfire." _**BONNY?**_

"Call me Bonny again, and I'll crush your scrawny throat." I grab him by his neck, and he waves the remote threateningly, cranking up the dial to its max setting. I drop him with a growl.

"Here's my terms and conditions, Bonny." I snarl, "You get Danny out of the picture, I get that doggie collar off of ya'. Sound chill?" If I had any other option, I would tell him fuck no and splatter his stoner brains all over the walls. But…for now, I have no choice but to agree.

"How am I supposed to kill him without my powers?"

"I don'know, you figure it out." I hold back the overwhelming urge to throttle him and end up grinding my teeth in furious anger, "Shake on it, Bon-Bon?"

It takes all I have not to crush his hand.

-x-

_Dan's P.O.V._

_ Absolute, and complete freedom. That's all I could describe this as…well, that and raging power. The smell of singed flesh and building materials seems intoxicating as I hesitate near the ruins of Vlad's mansion. But looking directly at the flames makes me squint away, my newly improved vision making the harsh light of the fire seem unbearable. I soon grow bored of watching though, and turn away, flying off at a speed I'd never reached before, at least comparable to a small jet. But somehow, I managed to see every detail of the fields below me. _

_ I arrived at Amity Park with a snort of annoyance. How dare they even __**try **__to rebuild that grease shack formerly known as the Nasty Burger? I would have to…fix that. _

_ "Ghost!" I turn, seeing one of the construction workers drop a tray full off coffee. _

_ "No…" I snatch him by the front of his vest, holding him to be an entire foot off the ground, "I'm no ghost…I'm a fucking poltergeist." I throw him with all of my new found strength into a steel bar and he hits it head first, his neck snapping and he goes completely limp. The rest of the workers scramble, dropping tools and running for their lives, one of them dropping a blow torch and lighting half of the construction site ablaze in almost an instant. Well that's no fun. _

_ But luckily, Valerie decides to join the party. _

_ "Hey, ghost!" I turn, crossing my arms over my chest. I study her nonchalantly, as if she were an insect squirming before me. No…something…less worthy than an insect. _

_ "Why does everyone call me that?" I act upset, biting my lower lip, but my new fangs puncture my lip and I end up hissing in pain. _

_ "P-Phantom? Is that you?" I grin, holding my arms out in a pose to display myself._

_ "The one and only, Val!" But she isn't amused and blasts me, sending me into the roaring inferno of the Nasty Burger. I cough out smoke before intangibly shooting through the fire and tackling her. _

_ "Get away!" _

_ "Never."_

-x-

I jump over a fence, the top of it tearing my cape and I growl, yanking the fabric loose. This whole 'no ghost powers' thing is definitely not for me.

"Come on, Bon-bon! Move it or lose it!" He sends a mild jolt through me that makes me snarl in response. This kid (I've heard him called Roach for some reason…) must be some triathlon runner because he's shooting by me like a bullet, his lanky form making it simple for him to dart like a fairy. I, on the other hand, do not have the frame for running. Muscle is good for pummeling, but long distance running is not something I'm built for.

"Come oonnnn… we're almost to Sam's house!" I glare at him, seeing a fork in the particular alley we're in. I take the right after her takes the left, laughing to myself as I hear him curse loudly. But it seems the joke's on me, because he ramps up a wattage that makes my legs give out beneath me and I fall flat on my face in the alleyway, skidding slightly before coming to a complete halt.

I push myself up, ectoplasm seeping from various newly acquired cuts and I rub at the mild road rash on my my jaw. As I look up, I see a _very _pissed kid storm up to me, remote clutched in his shaking hand.

"Bonfire!" I glare at him, still rubbing my jaw, "Bad!" …

….

….BAD?

I snap, jumping up and tackling him, delivering a harsh punch to his face.

"_YOU WANT BAD?_" Another punch as he squirms beneath me, "I'll give you fucking BAD!" I grab the front of his head in one hand, lifting it before smashing it into the ground. And then it feels like I get struck by a bolt of lightning. He kicks me off of him as I convulse, and his thumb remains pressed on the button causing my agony, the dial on the remote cranked to its highest level.

Every muscle fries, making it impossible to move; the only movement possible being my hands frozen around my collar, stuck gripping it in pain. My back arches without my telling it to do so, and my teeth gnash together so hard I'm sure one of my teeth snaps. He looks down at me with the smile of an amused parent watching a misbehaving child, and if I could move, I would _love _to wipe that smile from his fucking face.

"Hey now…" He toes me with the rubber sole of his boot, "is the big bad ghost hurting?" The snarl I let loose is so low and muffled that it sounds demonic, and I clamp my eyes shut to try and hold back the tears of agony that start to rise. I will _not _cry in front of him. But that must be what he's waiting for.

"Where are the tears, Bonny? Beg me for mercy…" As the tears finally fall he releases the button with a chuckle, polishing the remote nonchalantly, "At-a boy… up and at 'em!" I'm lying on the ground, panting and trying to coordinate my muscles enough to push myself up. But Roach refuses to help, slamming one boot clad foot on my chest and leaning forcefully on it, causing a pained cry to escape me as he crushes my damaged ribs.

"You…y-you son of a bitch!" I struggle to sit as he removes his foot, and he kneels with a chuckle.

"Listen, Bonny," He grabs my ear and yanks me closer; "You are _mine_. I _own _you, _pet._" My fists shake with rage and I glare up at him, the tears of pain still broiling over onto my cheeks. No. Never. I am no one's pet. Especially not this sadistic, bipolar stoner's pet.

"No…" I cough loudly before clearing my throat and continuing, using the wall to prop myself into a standing position, "_you _listen. I'm no one's pet. And I won't be manipulated by some lowlife moron like—" Another jolt rocks through me, sending me onto my back with a sickening crunch as I land on an old bottle, the shards sticking into me like a ghost pin cushion.

"Aw…you want help, big guy?" I look up at him and hold back a whimper of agony, "Then be _**obedient!**_" He kicks my ribs and I scream, curling in on myself and pushing the glass further into me, "You know…I read part of this book once, and this dude beats the shit out of this dog to get it to be obedient. Tell me, pet, does it work?" I snarl, attempting a lunge but collapsing half way because of the intense pain ringing throughout my entire torso.

I keep my mouth shut though, not encouraging or discouraging him. I know if I say one wrong word then I'll get another shock.

"Good!" He pats my forehead as if I'm a dog finally understanding a new command, "Now, up. Up boy!" What's next, roll over? Fetch? Play dead? But I choke back my snarky remarks and force myself into a standing position, beginning to pick the shards of broken bottle from my back.

"Well…" He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, "let's go, Bonny." He turns and walks a few steps away from me, pausing to make sure I'm following, "Don't tell me I need to put a leash on you too, Bonfire." I glare at the back of his head, following hesitantly.

This won't last.

I won't let it.

-x-

_Being trapped in a thermos is like…well, imagine a tiny can of soup and then imagine being forcefully stuffed into it. Sound bad? Well, put that situation and put the soup can in a lair with an all-knowing Master of Time…now I'm done. That's obviously bad enough, without the fact that said Master of Time has a bad habit of rubbing your nose in whatever you did wrong. Apparently he doesn't think this habit is maddeningly annoying. _

_ "How many lives, Phantom?" I growl, thrashing in the cramped space that is the Fenton Thermos, "How many people's lives have you cut short?" I roll my eyes. How does he expect to keep a correct count?_

_ "Well?" _

_ "Hell if I know, Clockwork. Do you think I had some sort of kill scoreboard?" Actually, now that I think about it, that's a pretty good idea. If—no, when—I get out of this thing, I will set up something along those lines exactly._

_ "You know what you've done." _

_ "Indeed I do! And I'm damn proud of it." And I can honestly say that I'm not lying. The sense of pride I get from thinking about the devastation I'd caused is quite the drug. _

_ "We'll have to fix that then, won't we?"_

_ …what?_

-x-

I can honestly say, it's been a _long _time since I'd last felt this weak. My muscles ached (all of them), my bones felt like they were loose from their sockets, and my skin felt overcooked. Not to mention my face, which had suffered multiple hits and now had severe road rash on the right side of my jaw. But Roach doesn't care. At least he's not making me run though, but this seems to be the only act of mercy he's willing to give me. He's walking ahead of me, humming happily as we wind through dark alley after dark alley.

"Why the long face, Bon-bon?" He turns his head slightly to see me. I attempt a snarl but the action irritates my chest and I end up coughing loudly, "What's that?" I look away. If I can't kill him, I won't talk to him.

"Ah, here we are…" I look forward then, and see a large house; obviously hand built using random materials like the other houses, "If you didn't waste too much time, that _thing _should still be in there." I look up at the house, mentally counting the floors. I'm guessing there are three but there might also be a basement. I look to him, wondering if he's going to make me search every room.

"I can't even begin to guess what she wants him for." If my face didn't hurt so badly, I would've face-palmed. Don't tell me I'm going to have to give the talk to my fucking torturer. (When a zombie/ghost teen loves a Goth survivalist leader very much…) Roach walks up to a window, shattering it with a nearby plank of wood while I decide to walk about three feet and open the backdoor.

"You can take the Batman approach and use the window, but I'll take the door. Thank you, very much." I quickly walk in and slam it shut, locking it before Roach can come in. He soon climbs through the window, whining about getting a shard of glass lodged in his hand. Well, I have about thirty shards of beer bottle in my back, so you can just shut the fuck up, and get this over with. But he seems to want to take his time, deciding that he needs to obsessively search each room when I know which one they'll be in.

The bedroom. The end.

As I make that suggestion he looks at me like I'm the stupid one here (his name is Roach, and _I'm _the dumb one?) but listens none the less, just opening doors to check instead of searching them until we reach one that sounds like there's life on the other side. I'm the last one to want to go in there. I don't want to know about it or hear it, and I certainly don't want to see it. Now, I'm not normally squeamish when it comes to sex (at all) but the thing to understand is, that's me. Or, it was. So, seeing Danny on a regular basis just with him being him is strange, because I'm forced to look at myself, but add the fact that he probably made it with Sam (probably? Who am I kidding?) is a bit disturbing to think of.

But Roach (being the genius that he is) throws open the door without a thought. They're half dressed, but it's better than no clothes. It's obvious that this is in the aftermath, what with the sheets being totaled. And for a few moments they don't even notice us, arguing about the three long jagged lines that wrap around her right arm that are clearly a result of his skeletal hand. But they soon notice us when roach purposely knocks over a vase.

"What the—_Dan?_" Danny stares at me, his eyes following the road rash on my face to the few ribs that had popped back out of place during Roach's abuse, "What the hell happened to you?" It's called an extremely bipolar, abusive pothead. I pointedly look at Roach.

"That doesn't concern you, _thing_." Danny flinches slightly and Sam jumps forward.

"Jeffery, get the hell out of my room—get out of my _house_!" _JEFFERY? _

"No, I'm here to protect you from that monster!" …_Jeffery?_

"Monster? That's my boyfriend, you moron!" Danny seems shocked by Sam's remark.

"Boyfriend? Really?" She rolls her eyes like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes really, now, Jeffery, get the hell out of here!" Jeffery steps back with a grin, his finger lingering over the button on the remote.

"No, because I've got an…exterminator for your _pest _problem." He looks pointedly between me and Danny before shoving me forward slightly.

"Dan? What is he talking about?" I can't say I don't want to hurt Danny, but I don't want to be forced to. If I'm going to kick the boys ass, I want to do it anytime I goddamn well please.

"Why the hesitation, Bonfire? Or do you need encouragement?" He holds up the remote, toying with the dial.

"Encouragm—?" I tackle Danny then, throwing him into the nearby closet and grabbing his neck, making sure to rub my fingers into the burn marks on his neck from the collar that _he _is somehow free from. I growl as he swings a punch, his fist slamming into my ribs, making me let out a cry of pain before I recapture him. The hold doesn't last long because a kerosene lamp slams into the back of my head and I crumple, my abused body giving out as I collapse into the closet and Danny scurries out of the way.

The kerosene burns as it comes in contact with the slices in my back from the shards of bottle glass, and I cringe as I try to force myself to stand. The world sways in and out of focus as I blink repeatedly, trying to focus on one solid object. So far, no dice.

"Get up, Bonfire!" I groan, trying once again to push myself up without result, my bulk working against me.

"If you want to fight me, do it yourself, don't send someone else to do it for you." The closet slams shut on me, Danny's powers freaking out again. And I'm cloaked in darkness with only the abstract light of my hair to lighten it. There's a thump as someone hits the closet hard, the door bowing slightly and I jump before cringing at the glass shards digging into my back from the action. It goes from bad to worse as my hair finally ignites the kerosene and white flames begin to run down my shoulders. Muffled screaming, arguing…door opens…light….bright…pain…

Blackness.

-x-

_Torture is one thing but this…this is… beyond that. Not only making me watch my past, but relive it. Like it was all happening again and I was powerless to stop it. Every mistake I saw coming. And every time I tried to stop it, the mistake would surely happen again, repeating itself a few times for good measure._

_ And I know that Clockwork is getting an obscene amount of enjoyment from this. Because every time I manage to claw my way out of the hell that is my past, he'll push me back in, forcing me to relive all over again. I refuse though, breaking out of for the last and final time, just before I have to relive the Nasty Burger explosion. _

_ "STOP IT!" I yell at him, Clockwork with a slight, knowing smile on his face. I spring up, my fists clenched and my teeth grinding together._

_ "Phantom, relax. I didn't show you anything you haven't seen before. That is your past. Your memories. All I did, was show you them." _

_ "Liar! You forced me to relive them, to feel everything and make every mistake all over again!" Clockwork toys with his time staff as if I'm only second priority, a misbehaving child to be ignored. _

_ "You seem rather scared by this. What exactly has you so frightened?" _

_ "Shut up."_

_ "It's not the memories themselves, is it?"_

_ "Shut up!" _

_ "It's the fact that __**you **__had no choice but to __**feel **__something besides __**anger**__." _

_ "__**Shut up!**__" I spring forward, ready to tear his head from his shoulders. But I dive through the air and end up on the ground with Clockwork standing behind me, his time staff blaringly obvious. It's cleared that he'd paused time and moved, and he would keep doing that over and over if I kept attacking. I had to be smarter about this. _

_ "Phantom, you should be honored I let you out of the Thermos at all." I tug at the cuffs around my wrists that keep my powers from working and keep me within the perimeters of Clockwork's domain. _

_ "Yeah, with restrictions." I snort, and Clockwork sighs, the thermos appearing in his hand. _

_ "I'm afraid you just can't learn, Phantom." _

-x-

I can't wake. At least, not officially. My body won't physically awaken but my mind is still completely aware and active. I appear to be in a ghost coma. If such a thing exists of course. I can hear, and feel and still have all my senses, but I just can't move.

"Vlad," Danny sighs, "You're not a doctor, let them take care of this." There's a clatter and the pain of something pressing into my now bare chest. I can't be sure, but I think the only thing on my chest is bandaging.

"They know nothing of ghost anatomy." Vlad huffs, turning my head to the side and picking out a glass shard, "They would just further his pain. Burn marks, bruises, road rash, fractured ribs, a partially dislocated shoulder, glass shards…his neck is so fried that I'm surprised his esophagus still functions!"

"Yeah, well, Jeffery may be a creep, but he's stronger than he looks. And crueler. He thinks he's a big shot because he's son of the head of discipline." Sam growls.

"How do you know him?"

"He had a crush on me for the longest time." I hear Danny growl and Sam shush him, "Relax, the feelings were never mutual. But I'm guessing he sicked Dan on you out of jealousy." What is it with people thinking I'm a dog? Something that can be tamed and trained…if I could, I would growl.

"Well, this Jeffery character did a number on Dan. The injuries he's sustained would easily kill a human. If he were alive, he would've been dead when his rib punctured his right lung right here." Punctured my lung? That would explain the breathlessness.

"When should he wake up?"

"His body is repairing itself. It won't wake until it can resume its regular actions. Which means it has to restart his ghost powers as well as his physical prowess. It could be a while."

And so began the most frustrating period of time. Ever. Of all time. Hearing and feeling everything that happens around me but not seeing it. Not quite understanding the sounds, and not able to fight back against the doctors prodding. Time had no relevance, so it could've been three years when a doctor lifted my right hand, stretching it out and sounds of awe resound from others around the doctor.

"Look at this one. I've never seen a ghost with such an anatomy." The doctor moves his hand to my jaw, lowering it and studying my teeth, "And those fangs!" One of my fangs slices his finger, "Sharp. What a peculiar tongue. I wonder how he speaks. Perhaps with a lisp? But what's your assumption of his ghost class? Vampire?"

_…what?_

Did he just call me a vampire?

"I'd assume as much." Yeah, well, if you assume you make an _ass _out of _u _and _me_. But in this case, you're just an ass. I am not involved in this equation of stupidity.

"What's its name?" IT? I think I am clearly male! I'm not even wearing a goddamn shirt and this dumb broad doesn't understand that I have an XY chromosome. Some doctor she is.

"I've heard something along the lines of Phantom." Finally they got something right.

"Was it Danny? Yes, I'm sure that's his name. Danny? Can you hear us, Danny?" Aaaaannnndddd…there it goes. That little victory of intelligence flushed down the drain in on fatal swoop, "Oh look! His brow twitched!" Because I'm unbelievably pissed? "Danny?" I roll my eyes behind my lids, knowing my protests won't do anything in my head. This parade of idiocy and stupidity continues for another unknown period of time before I hear Vlad again. He sounds pained.

"I know you probably don't care…but this trial isn't going well." He lets out a long breath, "You probably can't even hear me. I'm starting to wonder if you're even going to wake up." Oh, do go on.

"Which is awful, because we could really use you in Daniel's defense." How could I possibly help? What could I do? At the moment I am a vegetable. Not brain dead, but a vegetable still.

"There has to be something to wake you." I hear the shifting of metal, and tools. Extreme pain and I jolt awake with a gasp, my eyes shooting open. I cough and look down to see a hypodermic needle hanging out of my bandaged chest, and look over to a shocked Vlad.

"I-It worked?"

…

"It worked!" He laughs happily, "Dan, you have to speak with these people, help prove that Daniel never intentionally left the Hatch open." I stare at him for a moment, tenderly rubbing my throat.

"…" I open my mouth again, trying to force words out, "….." You have _got _to be kidding me.

"No…" Vlad scowls, "Laryngitis? Just…absolutely perfect." I scowl, mutely forcing words out of my mouth.

"It'll have to work…" I jump from the examination table, noting the absence of a collar before I fall to the ground. I growl, forcing myself into a sitting position, "I'd take my movements a bit slower if I were you. You have been unconscious for three weeks after all."

_HOW long?_

-x-

"_No. This isn't right." From inside the thermos I hear Clockwork quickly move around the room at a nearly frantic pace, "Something has changed in this timeline. None of this was supposed to happen." _

"_What's a matter? Everything not going perfectly?" He ignores me, continuing crossing the room to do whatever he's doing. _

"_Clockwork, have you—" The dull voice of an Observant._

"_Seen it? Of course I have. Mass chaos across the planet. Total apocalypse."_

"_Apocalypse? And I wasn't involved?" I'm ignored again._

"_This…I need to see this in person." Long silence. And that was the last time I heard from Clockwork._

-x-

Ok…this chapter was a little too much fun to write. Dan abuse, FTW! Annyywaaay…I don't know if you all are aware (Inu..) but "roach" is a term used for a small amount of a joint left. XD Anyway, this one is a little more normal length,still short, but better. It had more action in it. Thanks to my reviews from _**Rogue Alice, Evangeline Fenton, Son of Wind, Fugitive of Gray, Jakkeirafan223, Kirbysamful, Inuyuke, **_and_** Hellbreaker. **_And of course, much love to my beta Saty (_Satrinity_), and my two fellow RP addicts, _Inuyuke_ and _Kuroneko_.

Well, I am a very tired Skellington, and am posting the next chapter on _October 21. _Nya! Look at this? Halloween is approaching! :O….I'll have to do something special for that update. _**Warning, the update for chapter 12, that one will be uploaded on a MONDAY. So there will be no update on the 28**__**th**__** of October, there will be one on the 31**__**st**__**. But it's only so I can make that chapter extra awesome!**_ ~ QueenSkellington. __


	11. Chapter 11

Perhaps I am cursed. Maybe, just maybe, at one time, I was cursed by an angry gypsy. But in this one moment, I'm sure I'm blessed.

"_Laryngitis?_" I laugh, watching the annoyance flit across Dan's features as he huffs and crosses his arms, "Whoever is responsible for this, I thank you!" I kiss my palm and wave it at the ceiling, thankful for this glint of good humor in a time of trial. Dan does not share my sentiments and I can't particularly blame him. He's in pretty bad shape. He now has ghost proof cuffs chained to the wall instead of a collar (which I might mention, has been placed back on my neck when the trial started) but he whines and complains (actually, he huffs and snorts, which is the only sound he can make) about it all the same. The three weeks he spent in his ghost coma didn't seem to do much. He still screams (or has the facial movement of screaming) when you go anywhere near his ribs or still singed neck. The road rash on his jaw has barely healed, and his right arm looks like it's been overcooked.

"So, how about a deep, heart-to-heart talk, _**Danny**_?" He shoots me a venomous glare, pulling back his lips and hissing, showing off his dangerous fangs, "Just say that you don't want to if you'd rather not have a long drawn out conversation." He mouths the words _fuck off_ and I grin, "No objections then? Good!" He face-palms with a low choked growl, coughing up ectoplasm and not having the decency to cover his mouth.

I flinch and wipe a glop of the glowing ectoplasm from my cheek and he silently laughs, making me feel like the world is on mute.

"You think that's funny, huh?" He nods vigorously, still making the motion of laughing, "You think _this _is funny?" The new sink they'd put in explodes into shards again, the water dousing Dan and extinguishing his hair. It falls flat against his head, the bright white locks covering his eyes and giving him an appearance akin to a soaked cat. Pathetic and hilarious.

Dan snarls pulling the hair from his eyes and glaring at me. I laugh loudly, but my guffaws are cut short when Dan grabs me by the shoulder, straining my chain to its full length as he uses me as an umbrella. Fucking hilarious. I squirm, trying to free myself from his grip, thinking the steady onslaught of water might help, but his hold stays firm, and he quietly smirks.

"You bastard, let me go!" I thrash and Dan drops me, landing me on his lap in a puddle of freezing water, "GAH! You had to drop me _here_?" I jump away from him, firmly pressing myself against the opposite wall, "You are such a perv!" He rolls his eyes, placing his cheek in his hand and leaning on it, giving me a look that screams, _"Oh __**really? **__Do you need an example?" _

"No, I don't need an example!"

_"Didn't say you did._" His eyes tell me. And it's odd reading his eyes like he's actually speaking. And I wonder if this has to do with still technically being the same person.

"You implied it!" Another face-palm.

_"How would I do that? I can't fucking speak, you moron." _But he is talking. Not out loud, but I feel like he is talking in my head. Great. Now I'm going bat-shit crazy.

"_What _is going on in here?" The guard stands just outside the ghost shield, his gun at the ready. Dan rolls his eyes, humor and annoyance glinting in them.

_"Having a pool party, officer, care to join?" _He splashes the growing puddle he's sitting in, and it arcs through the ghost shield and splashes the guard directly in the face. He majorly overreacts; gripping his face like acid was just spit on it. Dan looks over at me.

_"Is he serious?" _I shrug, as equally amused/confused as he is. Another guard runs up, yelling at us (me) and accusing us (ME) of outrageous shit like spitting acid. What am I? A lizard?

_"Wow…you are SUCH a moron._"

"Wow…you are SUCH a moron." I gasp and clamp my hands over my mouth, staring at Dan. How had his thoughts left my mouth? Dan stares back in equal amazement and confusion. His brow crinkles and an evil smirk works its way across his lips.

"Yeah! I spit motherfucking _**acid **_in his eyes! What're you going to _**do **_about it?" I clamp my hands back over my mouth, more words pouring behind my hands as I try to force them down. Oh I am going to kill Dan. I shoot him a glare, but he just grins. I nearly faint at his eyes. They're green. Bright, Danny Phantom green. My shock allows my hand to drop and more of his words spew from my mouth, giving me a literal case of word vomit.

As he allows me access to my own vocal cords, the guards, already stunned and insulted beyond measure, scurry off. I growl at him.

"DAN! What the hell?" He looks at me innocently, his now green eyes taunting.

_"Whhaaattt…?" _

"Don't pull that innocent shit." I stand, and Dan's gaze turns disinterred. He looks away and leans back against the wall with an aggravated sigh, "Stay out of my head!" He looks back at me, one brow arched in curiosity.

_"Out of you head? What do you mean by that?" _I scream in frustration, holding back the intense urge to punch a wall as I pace, causing the chain to pull uncomfortably on my collar.

"No. That isn't _your _voice in my head. _Your _thoughts didn't come out of _my _mouth. Nope. Nope, nope, nope." He's staring at me now, his green eyes pulsing with a strange undertone of red that makes it seem like the color itself is a living thing, moving behind his eyes. It's creepy as fuck, "Stop looking at me like that!"

_"And how else am I supposed to communicate with you?"_

"Don't communicate with me at all!" He continues to stare up at me, "I mean, I didn't hear that thought! That didn't happen!" I place my hands over my ears, trying to shut out Dan's intruding thoughts even though they seem to be resounding from inside my head.

_"And I'm supposed to be the crazy one." _My anger spikes and the water from the busted sink freezes, encasing Dan's entire lower body in ice and he growls, thrashing against its icy grip. I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest before the ice incases my legs as well, the entire cell turning into an ice box and the walls slowly ice over.

I struggle, trying to free myself from the ice restraints that have formed all the way up to my knees. Okay…this is bad. But then a loud sound, almost like the sudden crack of a whip, and sparks fly from the ghost shield and it wavers, the light it gives of dimming and shaking before stabilizing itself. A twisted grin winds onto Dan's face (a grin I'd seen on a particular Fruit Loop's features only a thousand times before) and he twists one leg awkwardly, and then the other, snapping the ice's hold. I decide to take a page from his book and do the same, twisting my legs and freeing myself.

The ice's progress soon slows to a halt, and the crystals that had formed on the walls is slowly melting, some turning into icicles hanging from the ceiling. Dan looks panicked.

_"Danny. You have to do that again."_ I stare at him like he's lost whatever sanity he had left, and he clenches two slightly iced over fists.

"Why? So we can be forever remembered in blocks of ice?" I cross my arms over my chest, glaring metaphorical daggers at him. A few icicles snap off from the roof of our cell, hitting Dan several times on the head and shoulders, a few being sharp enough to leave puncture marks. Scratch that. _**Actual **_daggers.

_"No. The ice short circuits the ghost shield…you need to get angry again." _He's right, and I know he is. But it'll be a (Warning: Pun) cold day in hell when I admit that.

"So? There's still the matter of the restraints." I tug at the collar around my neck for emphasis.

_"Just bite through the chain like you did before!" _ His patience is waning and he struggles against the bonds on his wrists to get closer to me. I step back towards the wall behind me, but end up getting jabbed in the thigh with an ice shard.

"Dan. No. I won't risk it. My feral side is…dangerous." He roles his eyes and I can just catch red streaking across his irises before disappearing.

_"No shit, Sherlock. But I'm getting out of here. And you would too, if you had any common sense." _

"I can't leave. Not now." We lock gazes for a moment, and I see something truly evil dance behind Dan's eyes.

_"It's Sam isn't it? Forget about her. It's either your freedom, or the girl." _ The choice is plain and simple before my eyes. Sam. It's always been her.

"Well. When you put it that way…" I clench a fist, ramming the blow where I know it'll hurt most. Right in the center of his chest. He lets out a howl of pain, gripping at his chest and growling, "Never tell me to forget about her. I can't. I _won't_! _**GOT IT?**_" He stares up at me from the floor, snorting in protest but not replying via our strange mental connection. He's beyond pissed, but the hit to his chest has caused his breathing to become erratic, making it impossible for him to have the strength to retaliate.

"The trial is continuing today. We need to stay. I know I can win this." He rolls his eyes, coughing up ectoplasm and I frown. Some good guy, I am. Striking a person who made no threat. (But to be fair, Dan is always kind of threatening.) Dan struggles to a standing position, propping himself up against an icy wall.

"You just have to be so fucking noble, don't you?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

-x-

_ Jump a fence. Climb a wall. Leap over alleyways. I am proud to say that my physical prowess has gotten WAY better. By leaps and bounds, actually. The zombies have no hope keeping up with me, but a few still manage, one catching my ankle as I jump. The sudden loss of momentum causes me to flail forward, landing face first on the pavement as a Scavenger jumps on my back and I slip over, staring straight into her face._

_ I can't believe it. It's Paulina. Her formerly flawless skin hangs in shreds from her skull, only wisps of thick black hair left on her scalp. The eyes that stare back at me are a classic infected yellow, but the life in them is long gone. She's thin. Much thinner than she used to be at least, each rib actually tearing through her skin. I kick her off of me, and she goes flying, slamming into the wall as her right leg detaches and hits the ground before she does. _

_ Watching her stumble up is strange, almost dreamlike, as I seem to see her as she was. Gorgeous, perfect yet snooty and stuck up. And then her true form rises back to reality, rotten, molded and ugly. It's almost poetic. Was this always what she looked like on the inside? A pile of shit with expensive clothes and make up poured on it? Blasting her undead brains across the alley wall is easier than I'd like as three more of the undead jump me. Luckily, I don't recognizes these faces, just more in a crowd._

_ Flying away has never been more of a relief._

-x-

I always thought the trials on TV were fake, but this…this looked pretty real. The trial I'd been facing the past couple of weeks had been private. Just Sam, the "elder council," Vlad, and me. But today is the "special" hearing, with all the survivors that can fit comfortably in the room, the council of elders, Sam, Vlad, and me….oh, but who could forget DAN. What a charmer he is.

No. I'm not kidding. He is a freaking _lady killer_. I watch as he throws back his torn and tattered cape, taking the hand of one of the daughters of the members of the elder council, kissing her hand and wrapping his reptilian tongue around her wrist for good measure. (It fully wraps too! Like _all the way _around her wrist) She squeals and giggles, batting him away playfully.

"Oh, sir, you _are _a ch_ar_mer!" Her accent sounds strange, and she twists the words with "ar" in them to sound like "ah." But Dan simply nods with a shrug, and moves onto the next daughter, and the next…and the next…until he makes it to a son, and frowns, unsure how to charm a guy. So Dan simply holds out his hand for a handshake, but the son grins teasingly.

"What, no kiss for me?" Dan looks deeply disturbed, his hand curling slightly in withdrawal before the son shakes it vigorously, (a little TOO much enthusiasm…) Dan realizes this too, looking around awkwardly, "The names Thomas. And I hope you know, you're little _charming _act won't work on me. I can see _straight _through you." Dan leans back a bit, trying to play innocent.

_"I can assure you…it's no act."_ Dan responds in my head, flashing his fangs.

"Ha. I'm sure." His grip on Dan's hand tightens so hard I can almost hear the bones grind together, "Well, see you at the execution—woops, I mean _trial_." I stare. How had he managed to hear Dan? Thomas gives a snide grin, releasing Dan's hand and turning, seeming pretty damn pleased with himself. But he doesn't walk away, seeming to be waiting for Dan's next move. It's extremely strange. Scary almost as Thomas turns his head, his eyes lighting themselves brightly. Dangerously.

A ghost.

I feel the chill of my ghost sense rattle up my throat, followed by a sharp hiss. I know Dan senses it too by the way he's holding himself. The way his shoulders are pulled, his teeth are clenched, and his brow is furrowed. One of his hands is clenched behind his back, resisting the urge to attack. Something about Thomas just feels…dangerous. Like just beneath the seemingly placid surface there's something prepared to spring. I don't want to unleash whatever it is.

"Something wrong, Phantom?" Dan snarls, shoving both quaking fists behind his back. And I'm right along with him, feeling the same defense energy rise in me. Thomas is _not _to be trusted.

"Everyone!" A booming voice rings through the cave like room, "Be seated! The trial is to begin!" I immediately sit; knowing the consequences for disobedience involves a rather strong Taser shock. But Dan doesn't seem to grasp this fact, seeming to be caught in a glaring contest with Thomas. I feel the long bench I'm sitting on move as Vlad sits beside me.

"What exactly is Dan doing?" I look over at Vlad's face, seeing the dark rings under his eyes that tell me he slept little to none the night before. I really didn't care, considering I had to sleep in a cell with Dan.

"Having a staring contest with Thomas…who I'm pretty sure is a halfa." Vlad studies Thomas, feeling the same defensive urge that Dan and I had felt. I don't like this.

"I'm surprised you haven't noticed him before." Vlad replies and Thomas smirks as a few guards lead Dan to our bench. He plops down next to me so hard that wood creaks.

"Daniel Fenton? If that is your name." I stand with an awkward cough as every head turns to look at me. I immediately spot Thomas, and watch him as he sits properly in his chair, his back and shoulders so perfectly straight that he looks like he belongs in a classical painting. The prick.

"I-It is."

"Very well. Over the past two weeks, we've been deliberating your case." I look back at Vlad who is solemn, hands clasped together as he watches the head elder.

"And your decision?"

"On the decision of just the elders? All who vote for a maximum penalty of death please present your vote with aye or nay." I swallow dryly and see Thomas shift, looking morbidly interested in their decision.

"Nay."

"Aye."

"Aye."

I gulp, sweat gathering on my forehead. Two out of six. Not a death vote. Not yet.

"Nay."

Oh thank god.

"Aye."

My heartbeat quickens. If the next vote is nay, it'll be a tie. Maybe I won't have my head torn from my shoulders then. Maybe.

"…Aye."

…I can't believe it. Vlad takes in a sharp breath and I stare at the elders in horror.

"_Although_… the decision is not solely based on our opinion." I look up at them hopefully, hoping against hope that what I am about to hear is good news , "It's also largely based on the opinion of the public." He theatrically waves at the massive crowd of survivors and I look around, uncomforted by their stony faces.

"And the people have voted your sentence to be…" He pauses as he flips open a folder.

"Death by fire. Tomorrow at noon." He says it like a casual greeting before banging his gavel. Sealing my fate completely.

-x-

ME SORRY. But it was THIS or nothing. Blame Batman: Arkham City. It has STOLEN my time. So…because I wished to give you guys SUMPTIN, I give you this….tiny freaking chapter. 3,000 words…-_- I'm seriously sorry. ANYWHO…Thomas…is not mine. That's Kuroneko's beautiful creation XD I didn't really get to edit it much, so sorry :/ I don't have time this morning to add thanks to individual reviewers, but thanks :D ~ QueenSkellington 


	12. Chapter 12

The flames seemed to burn me from here. Just watching them was painful. I flinch away as they throw another chair into the roaring inferno and the flames jump higher, higher…I get lost in the different colors, staring at each branch of the fire with morbid interest. I pull at the chains wrapped around my body at various points, each charged with anti-ghost energy. They hold a constant sting, and I growl as I try to get more comfortable in their hold.

I look over as I see a struggle, Vlad thrashing as they clamp a ghost proof collar on his neck, and he screams in furious protest. And he thrashes against their hold like he's a wild cat, ready to tear their throats out.

"You _bastards_!" Another violent thrash, and his boot connects with someone's jaw, knocking them to the ground, "I'll kill you all!" And I haven't even touched the flames yet. Vlad is thrown to the ground, the right side of his face slammed into the dirt.

"You shut your mouth before we throw you in the fire too!" One of the men says, grinds Vlad's face in the dirt. Vlad snarls, thrashing on the ground to try and grip someone, to destroy _something_. All the while Dan stands beside me, eerily silent and standing in his own ghost proof bonds.

"What, no quips about this Dan? No, last laugh?" I look at Dan's solemn face and he looks back, his eyes dark.

_"Even I don't deserve to be burned alive. Let alone you." _He's uncharacteristically solemn, his jaw clenched tightly as he looks to the fire, the light reflecting off his eyes.

"That was…really deep." I return my stare to the fire, trying to ignore the sound of a snapping bone and Vlad's wail of agony. Everyone is suffering because of me. I note Sam's absence, wondering if she just didn't want to come. To see me burned alive. But then again, it's not exactly something you want to get memories of.

"Those who died for _this creature's _insolence will receive _redemption _in the form of his flesh." I swallow dryly, clenching my bound fists and staring at the ground, knowing this is well deserved, "Now, lead him forward!" Two strong pairs of hands grab my arms, leading me forward. The air grows hotter as I slowly come closer feeling like something in the fire is pulling me instead of the two men forcing me forward.

"Any last word, monster?" I look back at the crowd. Vlad is screaming and struggling, his left arm twisted at an odd angle and clearly broken, but he doesn't care. He looks honestly broken as he eyes the short distance between the bonfire and me. Dan, standing like a frozen statue, watching my every move like it's my last. Which it might as well be. We lock gazes for a moment. And his eyes narrow before looking away. He doesn't want to feel sorry for me, the pity radiating from him is tangible and he clenches his fists in sudden rage at the situation, knowing this isn't right. And standing in the middle of it all, is the head elder and Thomas.

As I look into Thomas' eyes, I see something. A glint of humor. Of a challenge. He's daring me to escape, daring me to rise against him. But something stops my breath as I continue to stare. He actually believes I can. His dares aren't a taunt, they're encouragement. He believes I can. His lips twist into a smirk and I look back at the flames, feeling the hairs on my arms curl slightly at the heat. I blink repeatedly as the heat dries my eyes and lean my head back as I am forced to take another staggering step, my boot only inches from the flames.

The crowd takes in a collective gasp as my other boot comes so close to the flames that tips of them start to blacken from the intense heat. My lungs suffer as I breathe in heated air, finding it hard to process the burning oxygen. But I'm freezing. Ice forms in thick sheets over my skin in a protective shell, covering every part of me as I'm thrown into the fire, steam billowing off in blinding sheets.

-x-

_The flames dance across my vision as I watch the forest burn. The screech of burning undead accenting the crackle of the trees dying. It was my only option really, surrounded on all sides, I had no choice but to light the forest with the one thing that absolutely destroyed a zombie. __**Fire. **_

_Fire was always one of my least favorite elements. Unstable and painful, and almost always used for destruction. But it served its purpose, and all the zombies in the area go up in flames with the trees. I frown, rubbing a small patch of singed skin on my palm from lighting the fire. I think of all the animals that must have been in there. All the innocent things that are dying._

_But I can't change what's happened. And maybe most of them escaped. Or at least died quickly. _

-x-

Pain. Absolute and complete pain. The ice keeps regenerating itself in an attempt at self-preservation, trying desperately to keep me alive, but the fire still manages to lick at my skin when the ice takes even a moment too long to rebuild. I can't see, my eyes clamped shut and frozen that way by the ice, but I don't need to see. I can feel my clothing begin to burn and my skin begin to singe.

The agony reminds me of my transformation into Danny Phantom in the first place. Except that the electrical pulse is replaced by a constant searing fiery pain. I never thought it would end this way. Never suspected it would end with fire. I always thought I'd go down fighting, kicking and screamed in a glorious last battle. But that's not it at all. The bonds start to heat, burning the skin they touch fiercely.

And then a hand.

It grabs me by the neck, dragging me from the fire and back into a whole other room separate from the room with the fire. I stare at the ceiling. Shocked, baffled and confused. Am I dead? Is this what it's like? No…I cringe as the last of the ice melts and the super-heated bonds starting branding my skin. It hurts too much. Maybe I'm in hell? That same hand starts tearing at the bonds, throwing them off of me as I continue blankly staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, are you still alive in there?" I try to focus my eyes, making out a face. Thomas.

"Oh, heeyyyyy Thomas…" I'm slightly delirious from pain before my brain reactivates, "THOMAS?" I try to sit up, but the singe marks covering my body are too painful and I fall back onto the ground with a pathetic whimper.

"Yes, it's me; I'm disappointed, I thought you'd be able to get out of that one by yourself." I glare at him, coughing out smoke.

"I was on _fire_, so excuse me for not thinking up a plan." I look at him. He's unburned, not a single mark on him as he stands. I growl and sit up, icing my burn wounds as I watch Thomas scurry around the room, loading a duffle bag with various necessities.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he fills the bag in record time, throwing it beside me.

"Who do you want to take with you?" He asks over his shoulder casually, like its only a side topic in a dull conversation, "Well? Who. Do. You. Want. To. Come. With. You?" He phrases each word as a sentence and I stare, comprehending his question. I'm leaving. I know he's right, and I know it's what's best, but Sam will never leave this place…and…and I've come too far to just leave her here.

"Thomas, I can't…I can't leave! What about Sam?" He looks back at me, an agitated expression on his face.

"Do you want your _safety _or do you want Sam?" I glare at him, struggling into a standing position.

"Sam. No question." I stagger past him, my fried clothes flaking off in parts.

"Danny, think about this! Once they see you're still alive, they'll kill you on the spot!" I freeze, knowing he's right. Did I really wanted to tempt fate? I growl in fury at my situation, knowing I'm stuck between not a rock and a hard place, but a rock, a hard place, a spiked wall, and a pit of fire. That's my life.

"Think about this, Danny." I don't turn to him, refusing to let him see the indecision on my face.

"Forget it, Thomas." And I run and run until I go to the one place I'd felt safe and loved. Sam's house.

-x-

_I looked up at the small tower. It's a clear night, and the stars are out. Very pretty. Gorgeous almost. I then look around me, finding the area suspiciously clear. As I wander in through the locked and barred door (Ghost powers, got to love them) I notice a lab of sorts. Tools are scattered, and the customary blood stains liter the walls. I pick through some trash, finding a journal._

_**The virus is vicious. Akin to rabies, it attacks the blood and brain without mercy. Erasing all memories the infected may have had. It makes them irrational. Bloodthirsty. No…that's not strong enough a word. Not by a long shot. It makes them blood crazed. Damnit. All my degrees and no idea what word could describe the ferocity and the absolute merciless way they go about their killings.**_

_** I've tried comparing it to several things. Wolves, big cats, sharks, birds…nothing compares. They have no strategy. They have no 'game plan.' They kill when and what they want. The End. And with this 'the end' comes another end. The end of humanity. **_

_** For we…**_

_** are surely…**_

_** doomed. **_

_The last few sentences are smeared with blood, a frantic bloody handprint marring the page. I run my thumb over the last few lines, and the words are so indented that they must've nearly ripped through the page when they were written. I set aside the book after reading over a few pages of unintelligible mathematic equations. I then look to the charred and destroyed stairs, simply flying to the roof and settling on its surface. _

_And as I look up at the clear sky reverently, I can't help but think one thing._

_That it's rare that I could pull myself away and stare at the stars._

_-_ x-

I throw open the doors with more force then I'd hoped to and they crack at their hinges. They fall from the doorframe to the ground and I run past them and up the stairs to her bedroom. She's not here but I stumble in, falling back onto her bed with a grunt. It's warm, but I'm not sure if it's because she was here, or just how unnaturally warm this room seems to stay.

I sink into the comforter, pulling the blankets close. In a way, I'm happy she wasn't in her room. Alone time had become nonexistent, and the quiet was welcome. Like it was opening a door to allow a plan to make everything better to seep into my mind. And I openly invite any brilliant plans, physically splaying my arms out as if it will allow whatever inventive, MacGyver rivaling stunt that'll make everything work out exactly like they're supposed to.

One…

Five…

Fifteen…

Twenty minutes soon pass and I'm still lying on the bed, splayed out and waiting for this mind bending idea. So far, I have exactly no ideas that don't involve just running off and forgetting them all. But even thinking about forfeiting Sam is painful.

A deep sigh escapes me, and I clamp my jaw trying to swallow the scream of frustration. Why couldn't the solution ever be simple? Easy? I pause, sitting up suddenly. Maybe it was. Maybe the solution is so simple, that it's difficult. Like diet cola being the cure to Ecto-Acne. Simple yet impossible to guess.

What is a simple solution that seems to be impossible? And then I remember. You can't find the solution without knowing the problem. The problem seems to have been that the Hatch was left open. And it was…but Dan and I had fallen through it, and I was sure I remembered hearing the clang of the Hatch slamming shut above us. The solid steel couldn't have just popped back open…

"This trial will end badly. I've made sure of it." Jeffery's (Roach?) words ring in my head. He wasn't even speaking to me honestly. I was just being led by and I caught it. Just a snippet. But it was enough. The smugness. The smirk. Almost as if he'd…he'd…I jump from the bed, teeth barred in a vicious snarl.

He'd. Framed. Me.

It takes all I have not to jump out of the nearby window and rip his throat out. Watch his blood drain. Tear his muscles from the bone…Rip the skin off his smug face while I devour his tissue…I can feel my grip slipping with the force of my rage and stagger back. No. I don't want to do that.

Lies. Every fiber in my body wants Jeffery's blood. Craves it. Needs it. But not just for food, but for redemption. I fall back against a wall trying to control myself, put the fog back under lock and key, but it snaps back at me, making me cringe like I've been slapped. And then I see the mirror.

It must be a demented hallucination. My jaw is rotted away, leaving a permanent skeletal grin, the shiny white bony glaringly obvious. The eye that remains is milky and dull, the green almost not visible behind the glaze. The skin on my forehead is hanging in shreds, black zombie goo slowly dripping down my face to my rotting nose and down my skeletal chin. Off white hair dusted with dirt and blood is thin on my scalp, a few chunks barely hanging from the rotted flesh. My neck is gone, only the skeletal spine holding up my head and leading down into my chest.

Horrified, I stumble backwards, the mirror mimicking my actions with deadly precision. My left arm is completely skeletal now, the skin and tissue having rotted away all the way up to my chest, and a silent scream escapes me as I study the bitten and chewed remains of myself. Monster. My left leg is broken, the bone jutting out in an odd direction and hanging on by only tendons, and my right isn't much better, the knee having been eaten by some creature. Maggots are crawling there.

I look away then, willing myself to believe the mirror is broken, busted, cursed maybe…but when I look down I see skeletal hands, the tissue rotted away up to the wrist. I try to shriek, jumping up and stumbling on my snapped leg, but I have no vocal cords. I grip my spinal neck, feeling each ridge of the bone and feeling up to the jaw, a few teeth missing and the jaw stuck in a morbid grin. My bony finger then fines one empty eyes socket and I jump as I feel the absence of an eye. The lid is gone as well on that I, leaving it open to the maggots.

As my fingers reach my hairline chunks of hair fall, still attached to putrid skin as the land on the ground with a moist squish. I feel my chest then, three ribs stabbing through the skin, and a few organs hang halfway out with them. I shake, terrified and disgusted as I stumble back and fall onto the bed. Some skin scrapes off on the sheets as I land and I watch my own heart spill from an open gash in my chest onto the bed, followed by a waterfall of black goo. My cadaver hands shake as I clutch the organ, squeezing it to have a small creature, a centipede, crawl from one of the holes in it.

My jaw opens in a silent scream as I throw the organ across the room where it hits the wall and explodes into a black swarm of smoke. The smoke quickly forms into a form, Jeffery, as he walks over, a sledgehammer forming in his hands. Suddenly, I can't move as the excess smoke forms bonds on my wrists and ankles, tying me to the bed.

"Nighty night, monster." He raises the sledgehammer, its metal face laughing at me before it swings down with a solid crunch as my brain splatters the cushions, falling in wet clumps on the floor.

-x-

…

….

"Danny! Wake up! Danny!" I can feel my body bouncing up and down on the bed as warm hands shake me back and forth. My eyes shoot up suddenly, and I see Sam's face above me, fear etched in her features. Then I remember what she must be seeing. I cover my face, forcing her hands from me.

"Don't look at me!" I scream, curling away from her.

"Danny?" Her hand touches my shoulder as I feel that both eyes are intact and then stare at my hands. My infected arm is as skeletal as ever, but my other is healthy, glowing slightly with a ghostly aura.

"I…I'm not a…a Fleshwalker…?" The relief is tangible as I let out a short laugh, "I'm not a Fleshwalker!" I run a hand down my chest, feeling my ribs in their prop places and then move to feeling my flesh covered neck.

"No…you're not…is everything alright Danny?" I capture her in a tight hug, pressing my lips to her forehead.

"I'm not a monster! Well…not entirely!" She hugs me back as I pull her down onto the bed, just enjoying being able to feel her against me.

"Of course you're not…but you…you were scheduled to be executed earlier…" Her voice is small and I look down at her. She's been crying.

"I…made it out. They threw me in the fire, but I sort of escaped." She hugs me tightly, running a hand gently over a scorched patch of skin.

"Why would I ever doubt you? I should have known they wouldn't be able to kill you." She curls into me, "You might as well be undead with how stubborn you are." I shudder, remembering the vividness of what must have been a dream. During my intense thinking I must have passed out. But the points I connected in my dream were relevant all the same.

I am in a load of shit, and Jeffery is to blame.

"Sam, we need to find Jeffery." She looks at me like I'm crazy, sitting up on the bed.

"Why?"

"I won't die for his grudge."

"Danny, what are you talking about? His grudge?" I sigh, placing a hand on her lower back and holding her to me.

"Jeffery's jealous of me I think…or he just hates me in general. I can't decide. But he framed me. He left the Hatch open _knowing _I'd get the blame!" Her fists tighten.

"I'll kill him."

"Sam, please—"

"I'll destroy him." I sigh, standing from the bed.

"We need to be smarter than this." She looks at me critically before sighing, realizing I have a point, "We need to turn the crowd on him…and you have the influence to do it." I look to her, and she quickly gets my meaning.

"You want me to turn the survivors on Jeffery?" I nod, hoping this doesn't sound as villainous as it feels.

"Yeah…god, I feel like such a villain…" Her hand lands on my shoulder.

"Sometimes, it's the only way, Danny."

-x-

_Dan's P.O.V._

I snorted as I paced my cell. There was no way he was dead. It just was not possible. He was next to impossible to destroy, so there's _no _way some petty _fire _would do the job. But it feels oddly real as I look over at where Danny's chain used to hook to the wall, seeing nothing there but the empty hook where it latched onto its surface.

Not that I cared or anything.

I sit on the ground with a huff, glaring at the wall across from me. I'm fucking _Dan Phantom_, I don't care if some bratty kid got burned alive. So maybe I did care. But not for those stupid sappy reasons. I cared because now I couldn't escape. I need his ice powers to short out the ghost shield. I need his teeth to bite through the chains. Long story short, I need him alive.

But I didn't _have _him alive. I had him dead. But my conflict is nothing compared to Vlad. He went on a near homicidal rampage. Twenty-seven mortally injured and two who died from complications of the beating. And he did all that with his bare hands and didn't use an ounce of his ghostly ability.

And Danny probably wouldn't have understood how truly protective Vlad was. But everyone at the execution was made very aware. Frighteningly aware…

"The NERVE!" Let me remind you, I'm not alone in my cell though. Not by a long shot, "To kill Daniel…they asked for what the received!" Vlad fumes on the ground, attached by so many chains to the wall that he couldn't stand even if he tore the wall down. I simply stare at him, unable to give any verbal feedback.

"Are you even listening?" Long stare. "Right, laryngitis." I roll my eyes. It's going to be hell dealing with the Fruitloop when he's…well, fruit loop-ier.

-x-

Again. SHORT….but hey, I threw in extra gore, kay? :D


	13. Chapter 13

Watching her manipulate a crowd was like watching a choir director directing a choir of three thousand. Or a tap dancer dancing to a techno song speed up fifty times. But she kept pace perfectly, never once faltering when faced with questions and accusations that seemed solid. Once she was done painting and tearing the question apart, it might as well have been about as solid as cheddar cheese and could hold about as much water as a paper bag. I never realized it before, but Sam's an artist.

I never realized what a lie-smith she was. It was probably because of her that my ghostly secret ever _stayed _a secret. But her talent could be turned around for far more malicious purposes. Note to self: NEVER piss her off. Or she _will _destroy me. She could make the Pope the devil. She could make the moon the sun. She could make a saint a sinner. She could…I'm out of analogies. But she could make me _believe _I had more.

I pause, hearing the crowd make quite muttering noises as they slowly, ever so slowly, turn on Roach. That's when I realize people are like wolves. You can run with their pack, but the minute you turn on them, they're out for blood, and nothing else will do. And the horror on Roach's face as he realizes this is comical. He stumbles backwards, nearly falling on his ass as the crowd gives a collective glare.

I feel a malicious smile spread across my face as Roach's back meets a wall and he laughs nervously, trying to reason with them. He should know you can't reason with wolves. As his head cracks on the hard packed dirt, the smell of not blood, but _exposed brain _hits me like a wall. My eyes widen as I suck in a breath, the smell so intoxicating that I lean forward so far I nearly topple over. My stomach growls fiercely and the fog envelopes my mind. But not before the nightmare resurfaces.

It bites me so harshly and quickly that I can't decipher when reality had shifted into a demented nightmare. I stalk forward, my gate broken and uneven with a classic zombie shuffle thrown into the mix. The crowd turns, almost like they planned this, staring me down and moving aside. My one remaining eye watches the crowd warily before I continue shuffling forward, the only sound being my broken footsteps and Roach's panicked panting from the ground. He stares up at me in abject horror and my skeletal hands grab his skull, cracking it in two like a coconut, the brains spilling out like a cherry in the middle of a chocolate covered cherry.

But I barely get a chance to lean forward to devour the delicacy when a boot connects with my ribs, a few organs jolting out of place and falling from gashes in my ribcage. Sam stands over me, her boot slick with my remains. But I can't seem to care, and stumble to my feet, hearing something odd…like a stereo blasting from a few blocks away.

_There is someone…walking behind you…_

I don't care to pay attention to it, and I dart forward towards her, teeth bared and hands ready to tear into her flesh.

_Turn around…look at me…_

She brings forward a rifle, slamming the butt of the gun into my temple and sending me skidding across the dirt. I lie there, stunned, as my brain rattles in my skull and blood starts to leak from my eyes and ears.

_There is someone…watching your footsteps…_

But I manage to force myself up once more, the pain feeling distant and unreal as I pant and stand there, trying to gather my coordination. Sam stands across from me, the gun perched in her hands, her finger twitching at the trigger, waiting to see my next move.

_Turn around…look at me! There is someone, who really loves you!_

When I don't move, she starts stepping forward, each step deliberate and full of purpose. Terrifyingly purposeful as she stops in front of me. Her eyes are so hard…so cold like they're just amethyst stones placed in her sockets, impossible to soften. But her hands are shaking and she bites her lip, looking away only for a moment before backslapping me hard enough for a hinge on my jaw to release, leaving the bone lopsided.

_Here is my heart…in my hand!_

I stagger back against a wall, my broken leg twisting at an odd angle. She's raised the gun now, not bothering with keeping any type of distance as she places the barrel of the gun against my forehead.

_Turn around…look at me…and understaaaannnddd…that there is someone…to stand beside you…turn around…look at me…_

I can't think to move away. I can't think to move at all.

_There is someone…to love and guide you…turn around…look at me…_

Strike that, I just can't think. I don't know why her finger is hesitating on the trigger, but it is.

"Danny?" Her words don't seem to match her face. The voice is concerned, but her face is stone cold.

_I've been waiting…but I'll wait forever! For yooouu to come to meee! _

I stare at her, wondering where her words are coming from, because they certainly aren't from her.

_Look at someone, who really loves you!_

"Danny? Danny?" I tune out that voice that sounds so much like hers, because it can't be hers. Her finger finally wraps around the trigger.

_Turn around…Look! At! Meeee!..._

The sound of the gun is all I hear as I'm suddenly pulled from the demented nightmare to see Sam, the actual Sam, standing in front of me, shaking me worriedly.

"Danny? Are you okay?" I look towards Roach, who is being killed by the survivors, not by me…not me. I let out a sigh of relief, hugging her to me. I'm still _me. _Not that monster…never…

"Yeah…yeah, I'm okay…I think." I sigh into her hair, looking at my left arm, frowning at the shiny white bone reflecting the dim light brilliantly.

"You just…seemed to blank there for a minute. I thought you'd want to watch them kill Roach. Considering what he did and all." I look over at Roach, watching as they deliver near fatal blows. I shake my head, turning from the scene and holding my breath as the scent of blood encases us. I need to get away. I dart down the alleyway, away from the scene and Sam follows, worried.

"Danny!" Damnit, she's still so fast, faster than I am, and skids to a halt in front of me, "Are you sure you're alright? You really don't look so good…" I'm still not breathing terrified of becoming that monster upon the scent of blood. I let out a breath and breathe in hesitantly, finding that the scent of exposed blood is far behind us. I stare at her, knowing that I'm not that far from turning into that…thing.

And she'd have to kill me. I don't want to "live" if that's what I'd become.

"Sam." I gently place my hands on her shoulders, "You have to promise to kill me." She stares at me in shock, her mouth open to speak but I shush her, "On a condition. If I ever hurt you, or become…a monster…kill me. Okay?" She shakes her head.

"No. I won't kill you…we're already close…Vlad…he gave some of our best researches the formula to the serum that stopped this—" She takes my left skeletal hand, intertwining her fingers with mine, "—from taking over you. We're trying to come up with something to stop this from changing you permanently." I stare at our hands intertwined. Her warm peach colored one wrapped around my cold skeletal one. The contrast is striking.

"Fine…that's great…but if this ever threatens you…" I raise my skeletal hand, freeing it from hers, "you _will _destroy me." She's silent now, but nods in agreement.

It's a deal.

-x-

_Dan's P.O.V._

I can't take it anymore. I simply _cannot _and will not take his ranting one second longer. So I calmly stand, hold up one hand to motion for silence, and then I punch him in the face. Admittedly, the punch wasn't well placed _or_ well thrown (considering the chains and all…) but I think I got my point across. Or I assume so judging by the look of absolute and utter shock on his face followed by raging fury.

Not like he can _do _anything about it though. Watching him struggle in the massive pile of chains hold is comical to say the least, and I can't help but laugh inside as I watch him with no more than a disinterested sneer. My poker face, you might say.

"You think this is _real _funny, don't you?" He sends me a venomous glare, but I can read him. (A plus of being part him, I suppose) And can easily tell he'd be laughing as well if our positions were reversed. But they aren't reversed, so he is going to be pissy and thrash around in the chains like he has any chance of escaping.

"If I wasn't in such a tight spot, I would be laughing right now." I turn to see Danny standing on the other side of the ghost proof shield of our cell and, well frankly, he looks like death itself. Tousled white hair matted and hanging in bloody knots, making it a dull pink color in spots and a rusty red in others. His green eyes are dull, almost glassy like…well, like a Fleshwalker. It worries me, honestly (Frightens? Fuck no…maybe) His skin is singed in random spots, while it's completely pale in others. I'm not sure if the tattered rags he's wearing count as clothing anymore, but he seems to think so, because the shred of his shirt is now slung from his right shoulder to his mid back, the left side burned away. At least his jeans seem mostly intact, but the denim is worn and the color long gone, and ragged, bloody holes are in the jeans knees, while the rest of the fabric is barely holding up on its own, the waist reduced to frayed shreds of denim.

"Daniel?" The shock on Vlad's face is so tangible it's almost funny. (Almost as funny as the broken nose I'm sure I've given him) "You're…ALIVE? But they executed you…" I'm glad he said it, but I'm just as shocked as he is, but I have a little more pride than to be as…stupidly surprised as he is.

"Yeah…well…I was saved I guess." His vagueness sparks suspicion, and I study him critically.

"So I'm in here for no reason?"

"I don't know, I always did say you should be locked up…" I hold back a snort of laughter trying to hide the amused smile that creeps across my face. Not that I'm succeeding or anything.

"Very funny, my boy, now would you kindly free us?"

"Who said I could free you?"

…

"You _can't_?" Vlad is angered at this, but he shouldn't be. It's not like Danny guaranteed he would free us in advance.

"But she can." Danny points back to Sam as she walks up behind him and types in the passcode that deactivates the shield. Danny walks in first, and as he steps up to me, I see the disturbing lack of height difference that we used to have. He's almost eye level with me now. I frown, stepping back a bit.

"I'm being stupid right now and trusting you."

"_Retarded, actually." _

"Shut up. I'm letting you off these chains so you can help me."

"_Help you…again, stupid."_

"Will you shut it and listen to me—"

"_No." _

"FINE! I'll just leave you chained up."

"…"

"What, nothing to say now?"

"_What do you want my help for?" _

-x-

Danny's P.O.V.

I'm not a scientist. I think my average science grade throughout my entire school career was about a C-…and that's being very generous. So Vlad's constant muttering of chemical compounds and other science things might as well be binary code for all I know.

"Add some carbon here…" His voice trails off as he mouths the various compounds, "Fudge, what was that called again…Magnesium, Potassium, Sulfur…" I look over at Dan to see if he possibly comprehends this, and it seems he does, what with the way his eyes seem to point to each vial before Vlad even grabs it. And even Sam seems to be able to follow what Vlad is saying.

I guess I'm the only one here who doesn't understand "smart people talk" as Dan had put it, oh so gracefully. (As if)

"You're looking for the sulfa over there." And just like that, it seems Dan has gotten his voice back. I study him, wondering if he'd been faking the whole time, but he isn't even looking at me, just playing with some empty and capped needles lying on a medical cart.

"I have a prototype cure but it's untested…It would have an eighty percent chance of killing you if I didn't have a test subject first." Vlad holds up the large hypodermic needle, the needle containing a thick, off yellow fluid, "I don't suppose there are any takers to get infected so I can test this?"

"…why the hell not? I'll do it." If my jaw could hit the floor, it would've. Dan was offering to get infected? Risk being one of them? For what purpose? What did he gain from a cure being made?

"Well, then…" Vlad clears his throat, "come with me."

-x-

Dan's P.O.V.

The cheeriness of the sunlight is so out of place it almost makes me sick. Flowers are barely starting to bloom and I stomp on the buds, annoyed with the plants. In times like these, nothing should even resemble slight happiness.

"Dan, you really should focus."

"Why? So I can look out for zombies? Aren't I trying to get bitten?" Vlad's silent as he considers this, nodding slightly.

"I suppose." Now we wait. He sits in a tree as I idly sit beneath it, uninterestedly lighting grass on fire. Then I hear it. That low, tortured groan of a Fleshwalker. As I look over, I see that it's little more than a skeleton with some patches of skin and organs sticking to it. It's starving, and desperate, and it's ready to eat anything and everything that it can. Even my ectoplasm.

I whistle as if I'm calling for a dog, standing and holding my arms out in a sort of, "come and get me" gesture. It doesn't hesitate. It charges at me, tripping over itself and the smell nearly makes me vomit as it closes in. (Rotting flesh, shit, decay, death and the "wonderful" stench of Nasty Sauce…) In a moment of sheer irony I see a Nasty Burger pin on its last scrap of torn shirt. But all my thought melts away as it sinks its teeth into my shoulder, tearing at the skin hungrily.

I grunt, ectoplasm pouring down my right side, the warm fluid splattering the nearby tree as Vlad swoops down and blows the zombie apart. As he lands beside me I feel the venom coarse through my veins, starting at my shoulder and rapidly spreading to the rest of my arm, the veins glowing bright blue beneath my skin. I can feel myself being pulled back to the Hatch, thrown down it and dragged back to the medical room.

But it's all a distant feeling. Everything, my entire being, is consumed in fire and ice at the same time. It's cruelly similar to when I was first created, the blinding and almost unreal pain…no. This isn't then. I snarl as I'm strapped down to a medical table, the venom starting to course faster, making more progress and I arch my back in agony with a howl of pain so deep and loud that it borders a ghostly wail, the rough walls shaking and the glass containers around me shattering.

I don't register the slight pinprick in my arm, the prototype cure, as Vlad injects it into my squirming arm, and all I do is thrash wildly, foam clogging my mouth as I snarl and growl. That's when I feel the antidote start to take effect, and I writhe and twist at the uncomfortable feeling of something like bugs crawling beneath my skin followed by a slight sting.

"Phantom?" One of the medical assistants leans over the table, watching me curiously, "Are you with us?" I hiss, foam splattering her face and she recoils, disgusted. The antidote has worked its way through my system now, leaving the feeling of itching and burning in its wake; it's only when it makes its way to my brain that my pain restarts, almost triple fold. My back arches so far up that a few vertebrae ache from the pressure, and my entire body freezes as it slams back onto the table, the antidote and the venom having a raging battle over control of my brain.

"I think he's going into shock." Vlad says, turning my head back and forth. But my eyes clear, and I watch him, blinking slowly.

"Dan…?" I give him a false smile, and he comes closer, thinking the antidote has won.

"Are you alright?" I nod, waiting…and then I strike, my teeth sinking into Vlad's hand with crushing force. It was a war between good and evil once again…and the outcome was exactly the same.

-x-

*facepalm*…DX How many months now, Steven? THREE? You lie!...okay, no. The last update was Halloween and it's January! DX I'm sorry! Things happened. Like hospitals and laryngitis…and this was SUPPOSED to be the last chapter. But it wasn't. =.= But hey, ZOMBIE DAN IS BEST DAN. Also, no flashbacks. If you'll notice, in Chapter 12, the last flashback had the first line of the story. We're caught up there. SO NO MOAR OF THOSE. ~ QueenSkellington


	14. Chapter 14

Dan's P.O.V.

I'd always thought freedom could only mean physically free. After spending such a long time in a thermos, that's the only freedom that was conceivable to me. But no…this…this was freedom. Being absolutely free of any semblance of humanity. Now, let me make this very clear, I had thought I had no humanity before, but it was always _there. _That little piece of my mind that remembered what it was like to be disgusted by the thought of becoming evil. Who was so conflicted over something as mindless and inconsequential as stealing…I always had that nagging piece of my mind that remembered what it was like to be a decent human being.

Thank GOD that's gone!

This is freedom. Not having any restrictions and only having one sole drive. I didn't care about my safety, my existence, anyone else's safety…all I wanted was blood. Blood and flesh. And as Vlad screams in pain, gripping his shaking wrist, I laugh loudly, the skin of my cheeks actually tearing with how hard I'm laughing, ectoplasm, leaking into my mouth as the Joker smile seems to form.

At that moment, the bindings that hold me to the table seem to be made of tissue paper and I tear through them as such, flying from the table so quickly that my fist connects with the nearest nurse in less than a second, her blood splattering my arm and face. The scent showers over me like a fog encroaching on a small space, completely engulfing me in its delicious scent. I lick my fangs that seemed to have grown far enough to overlap my lower lip before picking up the nurse by the front of her uniform, my snake tongue darting from between my lips to lick the gash in her lip, the spicy-sweetness of her blood sending a surge of hunger through me.

"Dan!" I hear Vlad behind me, infuriated, but I ignore him, running my hand up the side of the nurse's face until my thumb reaches her temple. I can feel how thin the bone is there, and my fingers curl at the feel of the blood pulsing to her brain. My nails dig into the flesh of her scalp as my thumb crushes her temple and she screams, slamming her fists against my stone wall of a chest. But nothing can save her now. My fangs dig into her crushed temple, and I shatter the bone in my jaw, tearing off half her scalp in one quick motion like I'm peeling an orange instead of scalping someone. Only a few thin shards of skull still cling to her brain, and I peel those off with ease, letting out a low hiss before sinking my fangs into the flesh of her brain.

Fireworks go off in my head and my eyes roll back in their sockets in pleasure as I tear off the flesh, swallowing it hastily before sinking my teeth into her brain again. The pleasure is so intense that I don't even bother to register the knife repeatedly sinking into my back as I gorge myself on her brain matter, even sinking to licking the inside walls of her skull as I devour the last of her brain matter and start gnawing on the thick tendons of her brainstem. God…I want more.

I toss aside her carcass, spinning around as whoever is attacking me is in mid stab, the knife raised high above his head. But as I turn to face him, he drops the knife in absolute terror. I can't honestly blame him for his fear. I can see my reflection in his terrified eyes and I am quite the sight to behold. My usually stark white fire is now a dull gray as it lazily blazes skyward, my ponytail no longer in place, and gray flames spilling over my shoulders as I stand, monumental compared to his small size. My normally light blue skin is now an off blue, looking like a blue-green-gray hybrid with a few glowing blue veins here and there. My red eyes are now an electric yellow, the color around the irises a sickly pink color. A Joker-like grin splits my cheeks in jagged gashes, my horrendously long fangs digging into my upper chin as I snarl. I'm stained with blood from my nose to my waist, drenched in the crimson delicacy.

All I can see though is the intense power. The pure FEAR that radiates from this man. This prey. He is the mouse staring into the eyes of the snake. And, fittingly, I strike. My fangs sinking into his neck and I tear out the tendon there, swallowing it quickly and sucking up the blood that gushes from him, basking in the wonderful scent that pours from him. But before I can even move my biting to his scalp, something hard connects with the back of my head, sending me sprawling to the ground with a sharp hiss. I'm on my feet in almost an instant, growling and snarling like a rabid dog to see Danny floating over me, his fists raised and one fist tainted with my ectoplasm.

In that instant, I can feel only a blinding sense of predatory rage. Danny is far too close to my prey, and the scent of his borderline zombie infection is like a stench I've never experienced before. It's foul and rotten, but only subtly, masked by the lingering scent of ectoplasm. Something about his scent invokes a blind rage from me as I pounce him, tackling him to the ground and sinking my fangs into his shoulder. Unlike my prey, Danny doesn't scream, or flail, or beg, no. He sends an ectoplasmically charged fist into my ribs, causing two to snap out of place and my jaw loosens on his shoulder as he pushes me from him.

And I know there should be pain. I can see one rib bulging against the skin of my bare and blood-soaked chest, threatening to break free from its confines, and next to it is a dent in the skin where the other rib should be. But it doesn't hurt. There's just a numbness there where there should be agony. Another freeing aspect.

"Dan," Danny cracks his ectoplasm soaked knuckles, "you better not have destroyed Vlad's mind. He is our only hope of getting this plague under control." I finally look over to Vlad who lies on the floor, a used serum needle lying beside him.

"Who said I wanted it to end?" My voice is gruff like I haven't had a drink of water in a few months, "Don't you feel it, Danny? The absolute power? The freedom of what we have?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He doesn't look at me as I stalk forward, my shoulders shifting with the predatory prowl of a jungle cat.

"Yes, you do. How could you hold this all to yourself? Selfish boy. You know the power you have over people…the fear you could invoke. Embrace it!"

"Never! I will _never _embrace something that harms people!"

"You're weak." I'm behind him, smirking down at him as a twisted smirk of supremacy creeps across my jaggedly sliced cheeks.

"Stronger than you, monster!" His elbow swings back and slams into my already damaged ribs, one of them bending so far backwards that it snaps and lodges right between my lungs and out of my back, the rib sticking out a few inches from my back. Again, I only feel a numbness that tingles down my spine.

"Don't you see that?" I motion to my mangled ribs, "See the damage you can cause with just minimal force? You are a monster, Danny. Don't deny the beast anymore, let it go…it'll be so much easier." And it pleases me to see the indecision that flashes in his eyes before he steels himself again, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I don't have time for you." He suddenly lashes out, an ectoplasmic goo forming in his hands and he pins my wrists together, slamming my glued wrists against the wall. I thrash and hiss, slamming against the wall in fury. But I'm ignored as Danny goes over to Vlad, kneeling beside him. I will get him, if it is the last thing I do.

-x-

Vlad's P.O.V.

I am no stranger to pain. Emotional, physical, mental, I really knew how to handle it. But this is something else. A change on the molecular level. I'd studied the plague since it had begun, since it had been nothing but a rumor. And in all aspects, I'd actually tried to warn others. I'd actually tried to tell people of the very really threat of…at the risk of sounding like a "Fruitloop", the zombie apocalypse. Well, everyone I told very promptly declared me as insane, driven crazy by living alone in a castle fit for twenty.

And…I might have been. Maybe I was insane. I knew I had an extreme dislike of people in general, driven by people having turned me into some freak. And by people I mean _Jack _but I think my point is clear. (And I couldn't be happier that that oaf was one of the first to suffer of the plague.) But my questionable mental health is not the subject I'm focused on. The pain is what I'm thinking about right now, all I'm thinking about.

Dan's teeth had sunken so cleanly and precisely into the flesh of my hand that you'd think the wound had been inflicted by a medical tool. But he might as well have still been gnawing on my arm for the amount of pain ringing through my system. All I could hope for besides the pain to stop is that the same serum I'd used on Daniel worked on me as well. So far, it seemed to have worked. At least for the most part. The distinct smell of blood in the room was present but still seemed distant, almost irrelevant as I looked at the bite mark on my hand, watching the black goo ooze from it.

But I had to keep my mind intact. It was the only way to return this forsaken planet into a somewhat livable place. I was so close to figuring out a cure that I couldn't just stop…if I created a cure, then I would be famous for it, the father of the re-civilization of the planet. In a way, I would rule the world. And this bite wouldn't stop that dream from becoming a reality. So, as much as my muscles ache, I sit up to see Daniel kneeling next to me, watching me for any signs that I was going to bite or attack, but I only use the nearby counter to push myself up into a standing position, clearing my throat.

"Daniel, get me some bandages." He nods, searching the medical cabinets for a moment before finding the requested item and handing it to me. I take it gratefully, wrapping the bite to pretend it isn't there, throwing the bandaging aside before I stalk over to Dan (albeit, a little shakily) with a look of murder on my face.

"Beast!" I growl, kicking his side, the muted blue skin seeming to smear like wet paint as I kick the spot, "You could've ended the last hope for civilization!" He looks up at me with a look of pure disgust and distain that it makes me falter in my anger for a moment. And then he lets out this sound that I will never forget. It's somewhere between a screech and a wail, and the sheer pitch of the sound causes my ears to ring as I watch his cheeks split wider with the force of his open jaw.

The glass vials in the room shatter with the pitch of the noise, and I wince away from the glass as the noise comes to an abrupt halt. I look back to Dan in shock, my ears still ringing, to be met with a steely smirk.

"What good is civilization? It's pointless." He struggles against the binds, hissing in protest. He wasn't any good in this mindset. At least, he wouldn't be, not until two weeks later. When _she _appeared.

-x-

Mystery P.O.V.

Long story short, I'm in trouble. It's dark, and I don't like not seeing the enemy. It's been miles since I've last found a generator and I don't really know when I'll find the next one. Or if I will. So, I dart through the midnight woods, my boots connecting with crisped leaves and crunching obnoxiously loudly as I ran. My black cargo pants (only three sizes too big) snag on a branch as I run and I'm thrown back into a tree with a yelp of surprise and I swing my arm around, expecting my fist to connect with the rotting flesh of a zombie, but only meeting hard bark. I gasp in pain, freeing my oversized pant leg and stepping away from the tree, sliding my night vision goggles back into place before continuing, knowing I'll have to sacrifice some battery life on them to see in the dense woods.

They help, and I can see through the woods easily, continuing on my way, my supply bag thumping against my hip as I walk. I frown, shifting the tattered remains of what used to be my costume that now served as little more than a belly shirt. One sleeve has managed to stay; going down to my elbow, but the other is completely gone. Not that I should care. It's been years since I've last seen another living thing that would care about my clothing.

My train of thought immediately halts as I spot a form approaching with my night vision goggles…not that I need them. It's so bright that it burns my eyes because the goggles multiply the light so much that it seems I'm looking into a raging fire with them. Actually…I think it is fire. A moving fire?

I jump back as the fire-thing jumps at me, and I see how massive it is as it passes, almost slamming into a nearby tree but lands roughly on the ground. It picks itself up, and it must be at least six foot two. I slide off my night vision goggles to better view it to find myself face to face with the strangest looking zombie I've ever seen.

An off gray fiery mane of hair frames his face, falling over his shoulders and rising high above his head in lazy flames. His electric yellow eyes meet mine and I immediately break off a large branch from a tree, twirling it before holding it like a baseball bat. He pounces me and I swing, hitting him across the jaw and sending him into another tree. He bends awkwardly around the tree as lands, grunting as he gets back to his feet, murder in his eyes.

But before he can charge again, something reminiscent to a dog shock collar ropes around his neck and pulls him back. He gets pulled back hard to the ground and he thrashes as the end of the rope attached to the collar is tied to a tree and an all too familiar voice speaks.

"Damnit, Dan." I pause, gripping my stick/weapon and looking into the darkness illuminated by the zombie's glow. And by this illumination I can just see the shadows of another man. His build is subtly muscular, and I can see white hair spilling over broad shoulders as he turns to me.

Our eyes meet and I know exactly who it is. Who he is. He utters one word that lets me know he remembers me as well.

"Maddie?"

-x-

Vlad's P.O.V.

For a moment, I think I imagine it. Her image, her form…but there she is, standing in front of me. She glows dully, and her skin so much paler than I remember and it makes her auburn hair stand out starkly against her skin. It suddenly hits me why she's so pale, and why she glows.

She's a ghost.

The sudden irony is striking and I almost laugh. Almost…if I wasn't so busy kissing her in pure joy. What else could I do? I'd thought she had been dead, (and she technically is) but I was sure I'd never see her again. So I suppose the hard slap she gave me wasn't too much of a shock and I found myself grinning as I was pushed away from her.

"Vlad!" She yells, wiping her mouth, "Why…?" I can see she's shocked but I can't contain my joy at simply seeing her again, whether she wants to see me or not, I don't particularly care. I had accepted long ago that she wouldn't accept my affections…that didn't mean I'd given up though. It was that sort of endless pursuit that gave someone's life purpose. And the aggravation it gave Daniel to watch my attempts had become almost amusing.

"Vlad!" She waves her glowing hand in front of my face, and I shake my head, clearing it, "What is going on? What are you doing here? Why…why is that thing on a leash?" She motions to Dan with the large stick in her hands.

"It's…it is a very long story, Maddie." I step back, but only to better view her. A subtle blush rises as I study her (scraps of) clothing. Her blue jumpsuit has barely stayed intact, covering her bust and part of one arm while her stomach and left shoulder remain bare. Loose fitting cargo pants hang on her hips, and an ecto-gun hangs on one belt loop. I wonder why she isn't using that as a weapon, but see that the barrel is so dented and damaged that firing it would probably cause it to explode. The boots of her jumpsuit seemed to have survived, but are scuffed and covered in zombie goo and ectoplasm.

"I'm listening." She says, crossing her arms and I have to stop myself from looking at the region her arms cross over.

"I…well…" I wonder where my usual talent with words has gone, and instead settle for studying her face. Her eyes are still violet, but are now about three shades lighter and much brighter than they originally were, glowing with ghostly energy. Her hair has grown out, falling to just past her shoulders in choppy red locks. She's honestly as beautiful as ever.

"Speechless isn't your usual attitude, Vlad." I clear my throat, rubbing my bandaged hand abstractly.

"Yes…yes, I know. But really, we should discuss this elsewhere. No telling what could be out here."

"You mean like that?" She presses the butt of the stick to Dan's forehead and he hisses, baring his teeth at her before snapping in her direction like a rapid dog.

"Yes, but he's my test subject currently, so we can't destroy him just yet." She gives me a skeptical look but doesn't speak anymore. There's something different about her. A coldness that wasn't there before. She'd always held a natural warmth that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. The warmth is still there, but it's muted. Dull. Like a fire in danger of being put out.

"Where is this place that's more suitable to speak at?" I pause, watching her for a moment.

"Come with me." I grab the tie holding Dan, leading him with some effort. He snarls, giving me a harsh glare and yanking, trying to get at Maddie. She remains out of reach though, glancing back at Dan with a mix of disgust and fury…and…and hurt? It's a distant look of hurt, but it's there. There's something she's hiding.

And I will find out, or my name isn't Vlad Masters.

-x-

Okay…not exactly a weekly update….but it didn't take three months! …FML. Sorry, guys. But it took a while to think up this chapter. Anyway, MWAHAHA MADDIE LIVES…kinda. XD She's a ghost. See the irony? DO YOU? Ohhhh…and I'm sorry for the borderline porn of Dan eating someone's brain. It looked like he was having an orgasm, not eating brains. =_= Thanks to all that reviewed, favorited, and alerted! :D ~ QueenSkellington


	15. Chapter 15

Vlad's P.O.V.

The sting in my wrist is becoming an extreme irritant, making me scratch at it much more constantly than I'd like. Even through the bandages I can feel the rough texture beneath it, hardening like stone. And as much as I'd like to stay with Maddie, she had told me she needed to work alone, and had booted everyone but the restrained Dan from the medical bay.

So I have a lot of time on my hands. First things first, tell Daniel I'd found his mother. I'm not particularly looking forward to the chore because I know that the minute he finds out, he's going to do his best to keep me away from her. Like he used to do. That last add on to the sentence brings back memories, almost painful in their clarity, of how things were before the first outbreak of Fleshwalkers.

My life had been fairly simple, or at least it had started out that way. I'd grown up being painfully average. Average house, average family—just average in general. We were a middle class family, and we had enough money for what we needed, but not for anything we might want extra. I knew that I had enough, and that I could live satisfied as a normal man and have go on being…normal. But I wanted more. I always wanted more. I knew I was destined for wealth, and fame and being so much more than your average person.

Then the accident had happened and snatched pretty much any chances of going back to being normal. In all honesty, that accident had given me what I'd wanted. It had made me wealthy, and made my alter ego famous. But it still had never been enough for me. There were always the things I couldn't have. The Packers, and more importantly, Maddie. And I knew this was my chance to get her. This had to be the universes sign of giving me my (third?) chance at her. But this time, Jack wouldn't be a constant wall in our relationship.

No, now I was facing a much more challenging obstacle. Daniel. He's stronger, less oblivious than his father. I can't get him to go away simply by promising a plate of fudge (perhaps a comic book would do the trick?) like throwing a stick for a dog to fetch.

"—it was a goliath, I swear!" I turn my head at the sudden booming voice. I see an imposing figure, a large man standing on a crate and shouting, spittle flying from his mouth with the force of his words, "Twelve feet tall! And it ran on all fours like an ape! Its skin bubbled with the Devil's fire! Its eyes were black as night, and its teeth were that of a shark itself!"

"Excuse me?" I pipe up, interrupting him.

"Yes, God's Child?" I roll my eyes, rubbing my temple with two fingers.

"And this was a real thing you saw? Not something from your little…story book?"

"Good sir, this 'story book' is a book of truths! And yes, I saw it with my own two eyes, I did!" The crowd murmurs in agreement, "The beast even attempted to get its teeth on me, but through the will of God I have remained unchanged." He displays an ugly bite mark on his bulging stomach that looks more suited to being inflicted by a shark. The teeth marks are spread apart abstractly, and black fluid leaks from each gash, sparks of red flowing it.

"Sir, I really think you should go to the medical bay—" He interrupts me, and I grind my teeth to just punching the blubbering idiot.

"No, sir, you are mistaken! I don't need medicine! The LORD is my medicine! Bless me in your healing light, my Savior!" There's a chorus of "amen" and I shake my head, turning away. They would kill him once he'd been turned, he isn't my problem. I trot further down the makeshift street, searching for Daniel. If I were a teenage, part ghost, part human, part zombie hybrid, where would I be?

…

Well, that's an unanswerable question if I've ever heard one. I keep walking, and walking until my legs are sore. I take a seat on a loose crate, rubbing my arm sorely as I sit. It worries me how much the bite has changed in just the past hour. The black veins that have spread from the bite now reach to my palm and the back of my hand, the skin between the veins feeling hot and solid, as if they're made from newly cooled magma.

I was changing like Daniel had, but this was something else. His skin had rotted, mine seemed to be hardening like armor. Well, I could only hope I'd find a cure for the virus before this took me over.

"Someone's ego looks deflated." I look up to see Danny, wondering when he had grown so much taller. I look down at my hand and shove it into my tattered pocket to hide it.

"My ego is alive and healthy, thank you." I stand, his eyes almost meeting mine. He'd always been a gangly child, but he seemed to have filled in slightly. The burnt skin stretched over lean muscle, and he looked more like an adult than he ever had.

"Good to hear. What's up, though? Something's going on in that Fruit-loopy skull." I roll my eyes, suppressing a small smile. It was hard to take that term as an insult anymore; it reminded me of better times. So, I welcomed it.

"I do have some news to share with you. Come with me." I nod, turning and walking, Danny following behind me suspiciously.

"What news? This isn't a trap, is it?"

"Honestly, Daniel, do you think I have the time to think up an entire plot? I'm a little busy thinking of a way to save the world." I continue walking, flicking my eyes at the large man still preaching of this beast that had attacked, and my gaze is sharp enough to make him pause.

"The Devil is in you, sir! Give yourself to the Great Savior, our Lord Almighty!" I arch a brow, staring at him.

"He's talking about your eyes, Lucifer." Daniel murmurs.

"And what's so demonic about me eyes?" Daniel leads me forward to a cracked reflective window, motioning for me to look into it. I do so, blinking in surprise. I see their point, really. The blue irises of my eyes has faded to a coal black color, the pupil and iris blending together seamless. Something is very wrong with me, and I need to at least slow it with the same serum I'd given Danny.

But there was no guarantee it would even _work. _It's well known that the Fleshwalker virus changes the irises to yellow, not black. And the skin doesn't harden, it rots.

…what's happening to me?

Dan's P.O.V.

"Really, I'm fine!" Insanity seems to come in spades, at this point. At the moment, I feel very…calm. Happy, almost. I'm still insanely hungry, "Can I get a sandwich or something? I'm fucking starving." I growl, my good mood souring at the sting in my stomach. This isn't just the pang of hunger; it's something deeper than that. It's a carnal need for flesh driven forward by the burn of my stomach acid attempting to devour the very walls of my stomach.

Not that she cares. I look over at her, and my vision narrows into dangerous slits as she leans over me. I stare into her glowing violet eyes, searching for fear, for hesitation…but I don't find anything. It worries me, and I let out a low growl, trying to strike the fear I'm craving into her, but nothing happens.

Actually, something does happen. She slaps me.

"Shut up, okay? It's because of your kind that my family is dead." I can't even respond. I just stare at her for a few moments, dumbfounded.

Who does _she_ think she is?

"I might be trying to cure you, but only because you're a test subject. I don't like you, I don't care about you, and I don't need to save you. There are plenty other people I can use as a test subject, so don't you dare think you're _**special.**_" Her tone makes me internally flinch, because that tiny piece of Danny living in me recognizes her voice as his mothers, and her harsh words make him cower. My teeth clench in refusal to give in to my weaker half's urge to whimper, but I won't lie and say I wasn't tempted.

I feel the prick of a needle in my arm as my eyes flicker over to Vlad and Danny making their way in. But something isn't right. When my eyes attempt to meet Vlad's I find myself coming short, only making it to his nose, or his chin before I divert my eyes. I force myself to try again, but once again I find my eyes elsewhere.

Something strange is going on here, and I don't like it.

Danny's P.O.V.

To be honest, I didn't recognize her at first. But I did notice Vlad's look of apprehension, his uninfected hand slowly clenching into a nervous fist.

But then she spoke.

"Vlad, I told you I'm busy—" And she studies me like she doesn't quite know what emotion to feel. So I act first. I immediately come forward, gathering her in a tight hug, not quite fitting against her like I had before, my chin now resting on her shoulder instead of against it. I struggle to keep my resolve up, trying not to break as I smell her. The smell brings back so much I'd worked to forget, home, my childhood, coming home from school and seeing her, knowing I always had _someone _on my side, simply because she was there.

And God damnit, I'm crying. I don't realize I am at first because of how foreign the feeling is to me, but when I feel drops of moisture falling I realize that my resolve is nowhere as strong as I'd like to believe.

Then she pushes me away.

"YOU?" My eyes widen at her tone, "How did _you _survive? Of _all _the people, _you _survived this?" And I know I must look pathetic, nearly cowering as I step back, almost tripping over my own feet.

"It's Danny, Maddie." I hear Vlad behind me, his voice quiet and hesitant, almost too light to hear.

"But he's the Ghost Boy—" The frustrated sigh that comes from Vlad is well known to me.

"Danny _is _the Ghost Boy. How could you not know that? Daniel was only short of holding up a sign _proclaiming _him as the Ghost Boy and_ neither_ Jack noryou could see it? Madeline, you're smarter than that." Mom is so shell shocked, so quietly stunned that she doesn't look at any of us, favoring the small medical table instead. When her eyes flicker to mine, she mouths her words more than speaks them.

"Danny?"

I offer a sheepish smile, feeling like little more than a child caught doing wrong. She always did have that effect on me.

"Oh…Danny…" And this time, she comes forward for the hug, and I eagerly return it, ignoring the wisps of cool air of my ghost sense that come out as my arms wrap around her. And I don't care that Dan and Vlad are behind me, I feel a feeble "Mommy" tumble through my lips before I can stop it, my tears restarting and soaking her shoulder. I try to keep my shaking to a minimum, but as she rubs my back I can't stop the sob that rips up from my throat.

"Shh…" She murmurs, holding me tightly, pausing as she feels my arm but not questioning it, "I thought you were dead, sweetie." She murmurs against my ear, and I try to respond, I honestly did, but all that comes out is another string of sobs and some stuttered nonsense. My dignity is out the door, but I don't care. I have my Mom. And not Dan, or Vlad, or the zombie apocalypse can ruin this for me.

But the moment has to end eventually, and we pull away from each other as I furiously wipe at my eyes, trying to reclaim some dignity.

"Touching." Dan rolls his eyes, "Veeeeery touching. But the thing is, I don't care." His smirk is immediately cut short when Vlad growls, sending a harsh punch to a place I'd rather not mention.

"BUTTER BUISCUITS!" Dan screams, his knees pressing together in pain and his abs clenching as his body attempts to keel over, "You son of a bitch!" I feel the slightest smile cross my face before I realize what's happening here. Vlad is in the same room as my Mom.

_Vlad _is in the same room as my _Mom. _

Well, I'll have to fix that, won't I?

"Hey, _Mom, _can you come explain some of this chemical stuff to me?" Her eyes brighten as she comes over, standing by me and lining up the beakers in order as she says what they are. I split my attention, looking back at Vlad to see his eyes have strayed too far South for my liking and I clear my throat loudly, shooting him a glare and the all known "I'm watching you sign" as I turn back around to listen to her speak.

But the very moment I turn around, I'm sure that Vlad's eyes are back on her butt. And I'm right.

This is going to be a very, very, very long apocalypse.

Vlad's P.O.V.

I really do believe Daniel is out to either kill me, or just annoy me until I'm drivem to killing myself. Granted, it has only been a few days since he'd been reunited with his mother, but I was at my wits end. For one thing, he would not allow me into the lab with his mother unsupervised. Which, for the most part, was alright. I got to be near her, and in the end that really was enough.

But from there it got so much worse. He is constantly in my face with an air of "I'm onto you." And he is absurdly good at his self-appointed job of interruptions, shoving himself in-between Maddie and I, and just being an overall thorn.

I won't lie and say I haven't seriously considered throwing him to the living undead.

But that isn't the only annoyance in my life currently; my bite is also starting to get to be more of a problem. The rock hard armor has now grown to cover each of my fingers and has climbed up to my elbow, the edges seeming to be blurred and undefined, almost smoky and they seem to slowly waft in odd directions when it's touched.

Whatever is taking over my arm, it's something unknown to the world. This isn't the zombie virus, it's something…darker. And I'm not the only one who feels the darkness. Dan has yet to be able to meet my eye in several days, his gaze seeming to come short or just go haywire in general.

I take a seat on a small barrel, watching a small bonfire licking at the wood. It's almost like a makeshift party here, people gathering and talking, someone having managed to scrounge up some preserved marshmallows and giving them to children to roast in the flames. Some other group having brought out a ham; now roasting on a metal shaft over the fire, drops of marshmallow have dripped onto the skin of it, and it's starting to form a sort of caramelized shell on the pork.

It's all coming together quite nicely, looking like an almost normal Spring night if we all weren't underground. But I can feel something off in the air. It's a tension, like the music building before the climax in a movie. But I seem to be the only one who can hear it. My fears seem silly, though, as the night goes on, and I'm lulled into a sort of calmness as I demurely eat a piece of ham.

The calmness is shattered when the crashing starts. It's absurdly loud, like a bomb going off nearby and everyone stands, parents immediately ushering their children away and into their homes as the crashing grows louder and closer. Then the screams start. But they're inhuman, and border on howls, the frequency reaching such a height that the glass panes of the buildings start to shudder and shake, a few cracks winding on their surfaces.

I stand, my Plasmius form refusing to surface as I take a staggered step back, my knees locking in fear and shock when I see what the source of these screams and crashes are. It's huge, whatever it is, standing at just over ten feet tall and dripping with putrid black blood. Its skin is torn and bulging, tearing at the seams and barely holding onto the huge bulges of infected blood and fat beneath. But its face is what terrifies me most.

This _thing _is the preaching man from a few days ago, but at the same time he isn't. His face has swollen up to look like little more than a large infected wound, puss and more blood pouring from his deformed mouth, and the two sinkholes in his face must be his eyes, looking terrifyingly similar to mine. Before anyone can think, he swoops up on bystander in his massive hand, his fingers formed into daggers as he tears open the bystanders stomach, splattering the nearby home with fresh blood, the unfortunate man's organs spilling to the ground below as the thing bites into him, turning the bystander into little more than a pile of crushed bones on the floor.

I don't know what to do without my powers, but I move forward anyway purposefully, stopping short of the fire as the thing wobbles over to me on all fours like a bulldog, panting labored breaths of foul air. It crushes someone else's leg under its massive hands, not seeming to notice it, instead he sits in front of me like an obedient dog, going low to the ground and grinning at me. His smile spreads far wider than what seems possible, and the teeth awaiting me are jagged and dangerous, promising me a place there.

But the bite never comes.

The creature towers over me, panting its stench at me before letting out a throaty chuckle, raising its head in a mocking howl. As it lowers its head from the howl and lowers its front end in a sort of bow, I hear two chilling words gargled from its maw.

"My Master…"

-x-

;n; TEARS. Yes. I cried when Danny hugged Maddie. WHAT OF IT? ANYWAY, look at that :D Vlad is turning into a…thing. Not sure what yet XD PLOT TWIST IS TWISTY.

But on a serious note…._**PAY ATTENTION. I want ANSWERS. NAOW. **_

**SMUT. Would ANYONE be offended…by some Maddie/Vlad smut? 'Cause I really love that pairing and there is not enough of it on FF. Answer please~ **


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